His Mental State
by Die.Hayan
Summary: It started slowly. First his family, corrupted by the ways of Lord Voldemort. Then his life, spiraling out of control before his very eyes. Next his mind, slipping from his awareness day by day. Then it happened quickly. Somewhere the clock was ticking, and the fate of Draco's life rests in the hands of Hermione Granger.
1. Given The Circumstances

_**Author's Note:**_

 **Hello everyone! First off I would like to say as a bit of a warning that this fanfiction will include, at some point during the story:**

 **Profanity**

 **Strong scenes of a Sexual Nature**

 **Strong Violence**

 **Sensitive topics/issues/themes**

 **Disturbing or Unsettling Graphic Descriptions**

 **That being said, I hope you all enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. Any characters, items, places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

The sun filtered down through the window of a small apartment room in Diagon Alley. With the hushed murmurs of the morning occupants in the streets heading to work, the quiet seemed to buzz with comfort and serenity. The end of the Wizarding War, with the death of Lord Voldemort proudly printed on the front of all issues of the Daily Prophet for nearly three months, had brought about the end of paranoia and discomfort.

At first it was a gradual change. People began to slowly, one by one as though they knew they were going to regret it later, take down the safety charms around their houses. Next, children were allowed to wander down to the closest playground and spend the day swinging with friends and enjoying the simple things in life, such as the rare appearance of sunshine or the smell of freshly mowed grass. Then, after much hesitation, families began to leave their homes in groups and head out to shop in Diagon Alley, or to attend theater performances and dine out at restaurants.

The relief came slow, but surely it came to all. The dark corners of the world that had once seemed ominous and threatening were suddenly lit with hope and new perspectives.

The Golden Trio had become sensational news. Harry Potter had single-handedly, as many of the reporters put it, taken down the world's most fearsome dark wizard, and had saved the world from despair and anguish.

Harry cringed at these accusations, wanting desperately to explain that he hadn't single-handedly done anything, and that if it hadn't been for his friends and the support of so many others, that he would have been killed long ago- if not from Voldemort himself then from his own stupidity. Yet, despite all the ravings of the public, those close to Harry knew that his "yearning for attention" was merely dramatics of the newspapers in order to make him out to be their great hero. Hermione knew this more than anyone.

After the news had swept the nation, the Golden Trio began to think about their futures. This was incredibly difficult, it seemed, for Harry, who had spent his whole life preparing for a battle that was now over; a battle that he was supposed to die in.

Ron insisted on helping George run the Weasley's Wizards Joke Shop, to take some of the load off of his older brother's shoulders, who was still mourning the death of Fred. Some days he wouldn't even come out of his bedroom at the Burrow, and refused to speak to anyone besides Angelina Johnson, his girlfriend.

Hermione had already discovered what she wished to do only a few months before taking off with Harry and Ron to hunt down Horcruxes. After the war had ended, she spoke with McGonagall about returning to Hogswarts to finish her education. Harry and Ron had thought her mad for doing so, but her education had always been important to her, and she wanted to see it through to the very end. After obtaining her N.E.W.T.s, she went on to secure a job at the Ministry of Magic in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, hoping to broadcast her S.P.E.W campaign (S.P.I.T as Draco Malfoy had once called it). She worked not only for house elves, but for the rights of all magical creatures, such as centaurs and hippogriffs.

It wasn't until she had worked in the department for a year that she had begun to grow weary of her decision. Though she did enjoy helping create rights for the underprivileged, she felt unfulfilled and thought that there must be something else she could do to help the world. Because that was what Hermione did. She found the light in everything and worked to help the world, even if it meant her spending hours late into the night in some office at the Ministry.

It wasn't until Kingsley Shacklebolt, now Minister of Magic, approached her and offered her a job at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as a Magic Witch Watcher that her dwindling self desire roared to life again. With the help of Hit Wizards, a team comprised of wizards trained to take down and arrest highly dangerous criminals, Hermione and her colleagues were stationed in various strategic hide outs throughout Europe with the intent of finding and capturing rogue Death Eaters who had escaped during the war.

Kingsley had suggested Hermione for the team because of her intelligence, common sense, and background knowledge on the minds of Death Eaters, and she took the job without much hesitation. Being on the road again, hunting Death Eaters, gave her an odd sense of nostalgia that she couldn't quite place.

After she told Harry about her adventures and travels with the Witch Watchers and Hit Wizards, Harry became set on joining the Auror's Office- something he had been trying to avoid doing as he thought it wouldn't be a smart move for his mental health. But upon starting his training, he never looked back, and sometimes he still thanked Hermione for pushing him in the right direction.

Hermione worked with the Witch Watchers and Hit Wizards for nearly seven months before a particularly violent encounter with a group of rogue Death Eaters caused her to remain in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for three weeks. Her visit to the hospital had shaken her unexpectedly, giving her horrible flash backs and nightmares to things she had tried desperately to conceal in the deep recesses of her mind. When she was released, she spoke to Kingsley about resigning. She hated to think that one simple encounter had left her so paranoid and distraught, but Kingsley didn't seem to think anything of it, and if he did, he was certain not to let her know.

He offered her yet another position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, this time in the Wizengamot Administration Services. He assured her that she would be completely safe in the department, and explained to her that she would be working to defend wrongly accused criminals and perhaps question a captured Death Eater or two.

She could remember physically relaxing in her chair upon hearing this. She could still help the community, but perhaps from the safety of the Ministry's walls.

She accepted, and this very morning would mark her fifth month in office as a Magical Criminal Defense Lawyer. She enjoyed her position thoroughly, having saved many wrongly accused witches and wizards from being sent to Azkaban. After all that had been wrong and corrupt in the wizarding world's law enforcement government, it felt good to be doing something to help, and to be doing it safely and within reason of the law.

She still saw Harry and Ron often enough, usually seeing Ron in Diagon Alley and Harry whenever he wasn't off being an Auror somewhere secretive.

Though Ron and her had had their history during the war, their relationship quickly dwindled back into friendship when she had gone back to finish her last year at Hogwarts. She couldn't deny that sometimes she still thought about being with him, but she boiled it down to the fact that she was simply lonely. Working for the Ministry left her little time to socialize, and though sometimes she resented this fact, she had grown oddly accustomed to being alone.

Reaching a hand up to rub against the sleep in her eyes, Hermione slowly pulled herself from the warm embrace of her blankets. She set her feet on the wooden floor of her apartment, wiggling her toes at the cold sensation before reaching her arms over her head to stretch.

She grimaced at the harsh sunshine coming in through the thin white curtains before hauling herself upright and dragging her feet to the bathroom in her tank top and underwear.

She flicked on the light of the small bathroom, giving herself a sigh upon seeing her massive curls in the reflection of the mirror. Though many things about her had changed in the past few years, the stubborn untameable locks of her hair never would. She quickly brushed her teeth, splashing water on her face in an attempt to wake herself up, before she walked back into her bedroom and changed into a grey pencil skirt that stopped just below her knees, a white button down and a pair of black slip ons.

With a wave of her wand, she desperately tried to tame the mass of her hair before giving up and pulling it back into its usual bun. It seemed every morning she had this battle with her hair, and it seemed every morning that her hair would win.

Shoving her wand into her pocket and grabbing an apple on the counter of her tiny kitchen, she walked out of her apartment and into the streets of Diagon Alley. She could barely see the open sign at the Weasley's Wizards Joke Shop, and the flaming red hair of a familiar man as he stood outside, levitating a new must-have item up into a display window.

Hermione smiled at Ron's back before she started down the nearly deserted street. It was still too early for shoppers to be out and about, and she was surprised to see he had gotten up this early to go to work.

"Hey Ron," she said as she approached the front of the shop.

Ron seemed to jump at the sound of her voice before he turned to look at her, smiling his goofy grin from ear to ear. "Hey, 'Mione. Off to the Ministry are you?" he asked, taking in her pristine and clean appearance.

Hermione nodded, looking at the new object in the display window. "Yes, Kingsley might have a new case for me finally."

"You say that every day," Ron joked.

Hermione swatted at his shoulder and he pretended to yelp in pain before he waved a hand towards the display window she had been eyeing.

"George has got a whole new shipment of gadgets, would you like to see them?" his blue eyes landed on her and she almost started fidgeting.

"I would like to, but I really must get going," the tone she used to use back in school when they were late for class slipped out before she could catch it. Ron laughed at her.

"Oh come on, 'Mione. You haven't had a new case in almost two weeks. It'll only take a few minutes," before she could protest, Ron was snatching her arm and leading her through the front door of the shop.

It reminded her too much of Fred, and she almost slammed her heels into the ground to stop Ron from bringing her any further. Instead, she allowed him to drag her along, keeping her eyes on the tips of her shoes. She didn't know why she had such a hard time moving on from the war. It must be ten times worse for Ron and George to come here and work every day, the least she could do was visit without cringing at the very sight of it.

Taking a breath to calm herself, she allowed Ron to drag her up a flight of stairs and down a hallway until they came upon a storage room. Opening the door, he gestured out a hand for her to step through and she did, her eyes casting about the large room filled with a clutter of random items.

Ron stepped in after her, waving a hand towards a shelf off to the right. "These are all the new gadgets. Some are harmless, you know, 'first year stuff' as George calls them. They spit bubbles or fly around your ears and things like that." He moved further into the storage room, pulling down a box and placing it on the lone table in the middle of the room.

Hermione's curiosity got the better of her and she inched closer as he began to withdraw numerous items and place them on the desk.

"These are more advantaged stuff. This one lets you see through walls," he picked up a small cylinder and held it up to his eye, squinting his other one closed. Suddenly his face turned bright red and he quickly dropped the device from his eye.

"What?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "What did you see?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," he rushed out, putting the device back in the box.

Silence engulfed them for a moment, and Hermione shifted on the spot almost as much as Ron did, before suddenly he broke the silence, asking the question she was hoping to avoid.

"Have you heard from Harry lately?" his voice was hopeful as he turned to look at her, and she almost grimaced at this.

Crossing her arms over her chest, as though she could protect herself from the wounded look in his eyes, she said slowly, "No.. Not recently."

It happened just like she thought it would. He looked crestfallen before suddenly brightening up, barely hiding the concern in his eyes. "That's fine, he's probably really busy you know, being an Auror and all."

Hermione barely nodded, lifting a fingernail to her mouth and biting on it. Harry had gone on a mission about three weeks ago and had yet to come back or send word about how he was doing. Though the world was significantly safer, and the Dark Lord had been vanquished, his absence still worried her, as though he was still in some sort of trouble that would threaten his life.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Ron cleared his throat. The noise caused Hermione to jolt from her thoughts.

"You're doing it again," Ron said softly, smiling a little.

"Doing what?" Hermione asked, perhaps a little more harshly than was necessary.

"You're making that noise you make when you're thinking and biting your nail. Like a little hum, or something," Ron seemed just as embarrassed by his words as Hermione was, and they both blushed furiously.

It was moments like these that Hermione wondered if they had given up on each other too quickly. Going to Hogwarts for her final year and studying for her N.E.W.T.s had taken up most of her time, and with Ron working hard to help George run the shop, sometimes running it for him in his depressed absences, it was easy to lull back into familiar friendship and forget about their possible romance.

But in fumbling conversations when they were alone, after Hermione had not been with a man for quite some time, she couldn't tell if it was Ron or her own loneliness that caused her to re-evaluate it all over again.

She noticed far too late that Ron had moved a bit closer to her, and she quickly turned on her heels, clearing her throat loudly as if it would also clear her head.

"I should get going, Kingsley will be expecting me any time now and I don't want to be late, you know, in case he has a new case for me," she rushed out, starting towards the door.

"Yeah, I'll see you around Hermione," Ron said, but she was already out the door and heading down the stairs by the time he did.

She didn't know why she had run, but the prospect of kissing Ron frightened her more than going off with the Witch Watchers and Hit Wizards searching for rogue Death Eaters. There were so many emotions and unexplained feelings between them that Hermione didn't know if she was ready to delve into them just now. She didn't know if she'd be able to do it all. It was easier just to bottle it up inside her and store it away to over analyze later. Besides, Ron probably only wanted her because he was lonely as well, not because he actually wanted her.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione exited the joke shop out onto the street and apparated into thin air, unaware of the blue-eyed gaze staring down at her from the second floor window.

* * *

The Ministry was more alive with activity than Hermione had seen it in almost two weeks. It seemed as though everyone had a place to be and a very short amount of time to get there as they rushed around in the quiet hum of morning with coffees and disgruntled faces.

She moved swiftly through the crowd, heading towards the elevator that would take her to her department on the third floor, and to Kingsley who would hopefully be waiting to give her a new case. She needed to occupy her mind.

She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't even recognized the black hair and round glasses of Harry Potter until he was practically right in front of her, a grim look marring his normal boyish expression.

Hermione smiled, not recognizing the trying look on her friend's face at first.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, wrapping him up in a hug that he returned just as tightly.

"It's good to see you too, Hermione," Harry said, pulling away from her.

"Ron and I were just talking about you this morning. He's been so worried," Hermione rushed on, before faltering slightly at the distant look in his eyes. "Harry? What's wrong?" she asked with worry.

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration before readjusting his glasses. He forced a smile, "Nothing. I'm just tired from the trip, it was a long one."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "You'll tell me about it, won't you?"

"Of course, but not right now, I've to speak with Kingsley before I do anything else, do you know where he is?"

Hermione stiffened when Harry told her he needed to see Kingsley. Though she bit her tongue to keep herself from asking too many questions, she was more than certain that something bad had happened on his latest mission.

"He should be in his office upstairs," Hermione said, waving for him to follow her as she started towards the elevator again. He followed wordlessly until they got into the elevator, and then he began to ask about Ron as a way to lighten the mood.

Hermione tried to follow his lead, telling him about the activities in the Weasley's Wizards Joke Shop and her own inactivity due to lack of case files in her department.

Harry listened, but she was sure he was only hearing half of what she was saying.

When they reached the third floor, Harry promised to see her before he went home to rest and left her to go find Kingsley.

Desperately wanting a case file to keep her mind busy, yet knowing better than to follow Harry when he had important matters to speak to Kingsley about, Hermione trudged herself towards her office and stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind her.

Her office wasn't much, for she hardly spent any time in there. She liked to take her case files home and spent a majority of her time with Kingsley to discuss what sort of things she had found out. When she wasn't at home studying the case or speaking to Kingsley, normally she was down in the interrogation room, questioning her clients.

The room was small with the desk taking up most of the space. A bookcase to the left was filled to the brim with books she had already read at least twice, and on her desk sat two pictures. One was of Harry, Ron and herself during their first year at Hogwarts. The next was a photo of them that she had clipped from a newspaper, a few weeks after the defeat of Lord Voldemort. She liked to see how far they've come, and to remind herself that she wasn't alone even though sometimes she felt horribly so.

Sitting herself down at her desk, she pulled out her most recent file and skimmed through the contents to keep herself busy.

She read over the file at least three times before a knock on her door pulled her from her concentration. Before she could answer, the door opened and Harry peeked his head inside. He looked a little flustered, but a bit more relaxed and less troubled than he had when she had first seen him.

"Kingsley wants to see you, I think he finally has a new case for you," Harry said, smiling gently at her.

"Oh! Of course," Hermione shoved her old file away into her desk before she stood, heading towards the door that Harry now held open for her.

"We'll have dinner together sometime, okay?" Harry said, noticing that she was struggling with something that she wanted to say.

She smiled at him, pulling him into another hug. She couldn't help but be relieved to know that he was okay after such a long absence.

"Of course, we'll invite Ron as well. I think he misses you," Hermione laughed.

Harry departed with a few muttered words, looking more tired than ever.

She watched him go for a moment before turning and starting down the hallway, passing a few familiar faces along the way. She approached the door to Kingsley's office and knocked, waiting for his gruff voice to answer before she opened the door and stepped inside.

Kingsley looked weary as he ran a hand over his face, holding a file tight in his grasp.

"Ms. Granger, come in," he said, placing the file carefully on the table and clasping his hands in his lap.

Hermione hesitated at his physical state before closing the door and walking towards him.

"Kingsley, Harry said you had a new case file for me to look over?" she cocked her head to the side in interest, eyeing the file longingly on his desk.

Kingsley shifted under her gaze, waving a hand at the seat in front of him. "Yes, I do. Please, sit."

Hermione frowned slightly, for normally Kingsley gave her the file, said a few words of advice and sent her on her way. His invitation to sit and his slightly exasperated behavior caused a red flag in the back of her mind to spring up.

"Oh, alright," she said quietly, sitting herself down in the seat he had gestured to. "May I see it?" she asked, once again eyeing the file that sat in front of her.

"You said you talked to Harry?" Kingsley blatantly ignored her and Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to keep from lashing out with her impatience.

"Yes, I saw him when I was walking in."

"Did he tell you anything about his latest mission?"

Hermione stiffened at these words, sucking in a breath. "No, we didn't get to talk about it. He said he had to come see you straight away before he did anything else, and he was too tired afterwards to stay and chat. I suspect he's gone home to rest."

Kingsley nodded slowly at this before he sighed, running a hand over his hairless head. Now it was his turn to eye the folder on his desk as he muttered quietly, "I see."

They sat in silence for a moment before Kingsley cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

"I know this is a first for you Ms. Granger, but we have a former Death Eater's case file on our hands now," he said roughly, as though he were literally forcing the news onto her in hopes that she wouldn't react.

At first she didn't. She blinked at him, allowing his words to settle in her brain, before suddenly it clicked. "Wait," she said, shifting in her seat. "Wait, I thought Death Eater's were unexcuseable. I thought they didn't get a trial or a hearing at all. I thought-"

Kingsley held up a hand and Hermione snapped her mouth shut, forcing herself to breath normally.

"Yes, on any other circumstance, the capture of a Death Eater would be straight imprisonment in Azkaban and, judging on their severity in the war, a one-way ticket to a Dementor's Kiss."

Hermione blinked again. "And what circumstance is this, then?" she questioned suspiciously.

Kingsley seemed to be mulling something over before he finally let out a sigh and picked up the case file from his desk once more.

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to-"

Hermione held out her hand wordlessly, her eyes determined and unblinking.

Kingsley sighed again before he slipped the file into her fingers. She greedily snatched it from him, flipping it open and letting it fall into her lap with her head bent to read it.

But there was no need to read anything. The moment she opened the file, she felt her heart sink in her chest and she knew immediately why Harry had been so flustered, and why Kingsley was hesitant to put her on the case.

In a medium sized, black and white photo that was paper-clipped to a large stack of papers, was the leering mugshot of Draco Malfoy.

Though he didn't look particularly like the Draco Malfoy she remembered from Hogwarts, or even from the war.

His blonde hair was unkempt and wild, sitting up in random angles that reminded her a bit of Harry after he had just rolled out of bed. His jaunt features were more pronounced than ever before; his skin seemed to have sunken into his bones in a way that made him look like he was carved from marble stone. A streak of dirt coated his right cheek and his hair looked like it had a thin layer of dust over it.

She could see a scar on his pointed chin and the shoulders of his black suit looked worn and dirty. He sneered up at her, though the act was void of any childhood prejudice that she had seen whilst in school. This expression was empty of any emotion, save for rage and a wild hysteria that shone in the depths of his solid eyes.

Hermione felt violated just by looking at the photo, and she quickly closed the file in her lap, not even realizing her hands were shaking.

It was a known fact that Draco Malfoy had escaped during the heat of the battle at Hogwarts, along side his mother and father. Without a word, they had up and vanished, never to be heard from again. Of course, Auror's went straight to the Malfoy Manor after the battle had been declared over and Lord Voldemort was dead.

Many Auror's guessed that the Malfoy family would try and declare that they had been under the Imperius Curse, like Lucius Malfoy had done at the end of the first Wizarding War. But upon arriving at the Manor, Auror's had found it empty and void of any life.

The Malfoy family had vanished into thin air.

Auror's searched for them relentlessly, along with their search of finding all rogue Death Eaters, but after some time had simply assumed them to be dead.

Now, knowing his picture was burning a hole through the file in her lap, Hermione couldn't help but feel a shiver of revulsion as she thought of the blonde and his attempt to infiltrate Hogwarts with Death Eaters and kill Dumbledore.

Her fingers mindlessly moved to her left arm, feeling at the disgusting scar that sat on her skin as a reminder of what Draco's aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, had done to her simply for being who she was.

"Hermione," Kingsley said softly, watching her closely.

She snapped her eyes shut, forcing herself to take a calming breath before she opened them again. Kingsley seemed to be waiting for an outburst, probably no doubt like the one Harry had thrown after having captured the elusive Draco Malfoy and then was told that he was to be given a fair trial in the standings of the Ministry. But no such temper tantrum came from her. She looked as calm as ever, and for the life of her she didn't know how she managed that.

"Why has he been given a trial?"

Kingsley eyed her closely, as though still preparing for some attack on his life, before he pressed on. "Dumbledore saw to it that should the Malfoy boy be alive after the war, that he be given a fair trial-"

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes very uncharacteristically. Of course, Dumbledore would have something to do with this. And because Dumbledore had given the word, nobody, not even Harry or Kingsley, could do anything against it. Even in death, Dumbledore's advice and words still trumped everything else.

"You don't have to be the one to defend him," Kingsley ignored her outburst of disgust. "There are plenty of defense lawyers we can get, more skilled ones who have a history of working with former Death Eaters-"

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head slowly and letting her shoulders drop. This was the first case file she had seen in weeks, and though the client was less than enjoyable, she didn't want to risk how long it would be before she was given another one. "No, I can do this."

She didn't know if she was trying to convince herself or Kingsley, but the man nodded hesitantly at her words.

"If at any point during the trial you don't think you can continue, you can come and tell me and we will remove you from his case." Kingsley said finally, clasping his hands in his lap once again.

Hermione could picture Malfoy's taunting smirk at the thought of him making her give up her new case, and she quickly shook her head. "That won't be necessary Kingsley, but thank you."

She stood to her feet, clutching the case file in her fist.

"If that is everything, I'd like to begin my case study."

Kingsley seemed to hesitate one more time, knowing that this would be the last time he would be able to convince her to give up the case, before he nodded his head. "That is all."

With a click of her tongue, she turned on her heels and started swiftly out of his office, the file burning in her fingers with a heat that she knew she was imagining.

Just as she was about to exit the room, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

She turned sharply on her heel, catching Kingsley's lingering gaze.

"What about his parents?"

Kingsley hesitated. "It's in your case file-"

"I'd like to know now." If she had to defend the whole Malfoy family, she'd drop the case in a heartbeat.

Kingsley let out a sigh. "Lucius Malfoy was found dead in a safe house a few miles south of where Draco was captured. Narcissa Malfoy is still missing."

Hermione pursed her lips into a tight line, her mind buzzing, before she said quietly, "Thank you, Kingsley," and left without a backwards glance.


	2. Searching For The Bigger Picture

**_Author's Note:_**

 **Chapter two! Hope you guys enjoy!**

 **WARNING:**

 **This chapter contains Mild Scenes of a Sexual Nature**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. Any characters, items, places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

Hermione tried reading the file, she really did. That night back in her apartment, she set it down on the counter in her kitchen and had stared it down as though it were going to come to life and start mocking her. She held her wand loosely in her fingertips, leaning back against the refrigerator and eyeing the manila folder carefully.

After five tense moments, she had concluded that the file was not going to take the form of her former school bully and start picking on her. Yet she still felt weary even being in the presence of the damn thing.

It was like his presence was attached to it, and she had willingly let it into her home.

She began to grow angry again, like she had been when she had stormed back to her office earlier that day. Harry had been the one who had captured Malfoy, Kingsley said so himself, and he was the one who came to Kingsley with the file. He also knew that she was going to be the one that Kingsley gave it to, so why hadn't he warned her about it? Why hadn't he s _aid_ anything to her?

 _"I'm just tired from the trip, it was a long one."_

Hermione snorted to herself, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms defiantly at no one. Of course it was a long one, he had tracked down Draco _bloody_ Malfoy. They hadn't heard any news from the Malfoys in almost two years and now suddenly there he was, sitting in a cell in Azkaban awaiting his fair trial.

There he was, sitting in _her_ kitchen in a file on top of the counter.

She groaned under her breath, rubbing a hand over her face. When she had wanted a case file, she hadn't been expecting anything like this.

She turned from the counter with a sigh, setting her wand down and pulling a glass from the cupboard. She opened the fridge and reached inside for the wine bottle Ginny had gotten her for her birthday. She normally had a glass of wine before bed, but she figured with how stressed she was, she could probably reward herself with two or three glasses tonight.

She poured some of the red liquid into her glass, setting the bottle down and smelling the bitter scents. She sighed with contentment and took a sip before she headed into her bedroom to change into something a little more comfortable.

After stripping out of her work clothes and donning a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt, she tied her hair back into a messy, bushy ponytail and padded back into the kitchen with bare feet. She eyed the file cautiously as she picked up her glass of wine again.

It hadn't moved, but it's daunting presence still made her slightly uneasy. Like he could see her through the picture, or even hear what she was saying.

She took a ragged breath before she approached the counter, setting her glass down and pulling herself up onto the stool. She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling very aware of herself and her lonely apartment. It was like watching a horror movie or reading a suspenseful book when you were by yourself; nerve-wracking.

She flipped the file open before she could second guess herself and give herself time to chicken out and cuddle up with a good book in bed.

His face stared up at her from his mugshot, his hair unruly and dirty in a way she had never seen it before. Even during their sixth year, when he had been plotting his way to let Death Eaters into the castle, he had kept up his pristine and well-put-together Pureblood look. To see him so unraveled was unsettling.

He sneered, the right side of his face twisting into an angry snarl like a dog being cornered.

She forced herself to look at him, trying hard to see the pathetic boy she had known from Hogwarts, at least some small trace of him. But it seemed as though that boy didn't exist anymore. This picture was not of the slick-haired git who had called her a Mudblood in their second year. It was not a picture of the punk Slytherin who had almost gotten Buckbeak killed and Hagrid suspended in their third year. This wasn't even the trembling ball of nerves Malfoy had been in their sixth year.

This picture was of a man who was molded into a statue of fury and rage, and an unrelenting hatred for something deep in his own mind that no one could see.

Though Hermione never once considered herself scared of Draco Malfoy, the way his dangerous and hate-filled glare was staring back at her from out of this picture made her shudder.

She unclipped the photo and held it up to her face, watching the angry shake of his shoulders as his lip lifted into that vicious snarl, his dark eyes looking out into something only he could see. She turned the photo over and stared at the writing on the back.

 _Draco Lucius Malfoy_

 _Age 22_

 _b. 5 June, 1980_

Hermione scowled gently at the writing before setting the photo face down on the counter. It made her feel weird, knowing that Malfoy was only a year and three months older than her, and look at where he was compared to where she was.

She sat comfortably in her own apartment, working for the Ministry, while he sat locked up in Azkaban with a death sentence hanging over his head.

Taking a steadying breath, she moved onto his actual case file, taking the papers out of their paper-clip binding and thumbing through the pages. Eight pages of evidence proving him to be a guilty Death Eater worthy of the Dementor's Kiss.

She pursed her lips together and picked up the first page, taking another long sip of her wine before she started reading, her lips moving on their own as her brow furrowed in concentration.

 _Draco Lucius Malfoy, age 22, had been missing since the battle of Hogwarts during the second Wizarding War, and had been presumed dead. He and his parents, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, had fled the battle field long before the legendary battle between Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter had begun._

 _Auror's assumed that the Malfoy family had fled as a way to proclaim their disloyalty to Voldemort, and perhaps to use this as a way to escape imprisonment in Azkaban._

 _The Malfoy Manor, which had been in the Malfoy family for generations, had been thoroughly searched and cleansed of most of its dark artifacts, and the Ministry set up Hit Wizards at the Manor, who stayed stationed there for nearly a year. When it was clear that the Malfoy family would not be returning to their home in Wiltsire, they were placed on the list of missing Death Eaters and given a bounty over their heads for their swift capture._

 _Almost two years later, the Ministry received word of a sighting of the Malfoy family in Ireland. Sending an Auror team led by Harry James Potter to Ireland seemed ineffective when the safe house they had been tipped off about was found abandoned and void of any new leads._

 _Not two weeks later was there another sighting of the family reported just off the coast of Wales._

 _Harry James Potter and his team cornered Draco Lucius Malfoy on a path in the woods. 'The boy was covered with blood, dirt and grime', said one of the Auror's on Harry's team, 'and seemed unresponsive to any advancements from us. He was captured easily, barely put up a fight, and was sent straight to Azkaban.'_

 _Draco Malfoy, now admitted to Azkaban prison, awaits his fair trial, as by the orders of Albus Dumbledore._

 _Lucius Malfoy, age 48, was later found dead in a safe house up the road from Draco's place of capture. His mother, Narcissa Malfoy, is still missing. The bounty on her head has doubled for anyone with any useful information on her whereabouts._

Hermione rubbed a hand over her eyes, taking another sip from her wine. She had only gone halfway through the first page and already she was unsure if she could continue.

To hear about the capture of her old school bully was almost frightening in a way. It unsettled her and gave her a chill that ran down into her bone. She tried to remind herself that the sniveling boy who had picked on her for her teeth no longer existed, and that only this shell of a man remained, but it was hard for her to accept such a thing.

She remembered what Harry had told her about what Sirius had said to him during their fifth year. That not all people were completely black or completely white. They were numerous shades of grey, and many mixtures of people's good and bad. It was the part they chose to act on that accounted for who they were.

But that would make Malfoy an awful human being, wouldn't it? True, he hadn't actually killed Dumbledore himself, nor was he even close to being able to according to Harry, and he hadn't ratted them out to his aunt that dreadful night at the Malfoy Manor during the midst of the war, but he _had_ let in a mass amount of Death Eaters into the school without a second thought. And he _had_ gotten the Dark Mark, willingly, when he was only 16 years old. So what did that make him?

Hermione quickly set aside the first page, which went into detail about Malfoy's admittance to Azkaban and his characteristics upon arrival noted by a psychiatrist. She would get to that later after she had read his case file entirely.

The second page was a character sheet, filled with all sorts of personal information that she didn't even realize she was curious about until setting eyes on the piece of paper.

It felt forbidden to her in a way, to look upon such personal information of someone she used to know before the war, but she was complied to read it as she was with every other case. This one, however, she took particular care in scanning over every little detail.

It spoke about his family members, going all the way back to Abraxas Malfoy and Cygnus Black lll, both deceased. The Malfoy family was well connected, both in wealth and in blood it seemed.

Scanning over Tonk's name caused Hermione to take in a sharp breath. She bit down hard on her lip, forcing the tears back as she read the word _deceased_ next to the woman's name. She took another, shakier breath, drowning a large swig of her wine. The bitter taste forced the tears back and she quickly cleared her throat to move on.

The file went on to discuss the purity of his blood, and the titles he had held once upon a time back at Hogwarts, such as being a Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team and becoming a Prefect in their fifth year.

These all seemed like such distant, irrelevant memories to Hermione, and she felt a small pang of something deep down inside herself. She couldn't place the feeling, but she felt almost _bad_ for him. Having done all these things, having eight pages of history to his name, and none of it mattered because he was a convicted Death Eater and would no doubt receive the Dementor's Kiss.

Slightly appalled by her feelings of pity for the blonde, she couldn't help the small voice in the back of her head that told her he deserved this. The little voice reminded her of all the bad things he had done, and how much pain he had caused not only herself, but to others as well.

And though she knew that he deserved every bit of torture and pain he had coming for him, looking at these pieces of paper made him seem so uncharacteristically _human_. As though, if she thought hard enough, she could picture someone else becoming Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch Team and being a Prefect in their fifth year.

She ran a hand over her eyes, setting the paper down on the counter top. She was such a conflicting ball of emotions lately, what was wrong with her?

First Ron, and half wanting him to kiss her and half wanting him to let it all be so they could go back to being friends. Now with Malfoy, half desperately wanting to see some form of good in him and the other half damning his soul to hell at the Dementor's unforgiving Kiss.

She was a Magical Criminal Defense Lawyer, it was only natural that she should feel some sort of sympathy for him, right? It was only in her job description to try and find a loophole to this report. To see the bigger picture.

But was there even a bigger picture to see? He was Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater, charged with the assisted murder of Albus Dumbledore, one of the greatest headmasters Hogwarts had ever known. He had tortured her friends and tormented her for years on end, without any signs of remorse. He wasn't supposed to have her sympathy or her pity. He didn't d _eserve_ it.

A fresh wave of anger surged through her and she picked up the glass of wine beside her, draining the rest of the red liquid in a single, fluid gulp. She coughed a little at the bitterness, slamming the glass back down.

It shattered as it made contact with the counter and Hermione sighed louder than was necessary in frustration.

She got up, careful not to step on the glass shards in her bare feet, before picking up her wand and muttering a quick repairing spell.

The glass shards flung themselves up from the ground and levitated back onto the counter, fixing themselves into the shape of her destroyed wine glass before shimmering back together and solidifying.

She picked up the glass and turned it slowly around in her fingers, eyeing her work carefully, before her gaze turned back to the file on the counter.

She set the glass down in the sink before picking up the papers and sliding them back into the folder. She picked up the picture lying face down and flipped it over, staring down at it.

His sneering face looked back up at her, but she felt none of the hatred directed towards muggle-borns and blood traitors. The hatred was there, however, and an anger so clear on his face that she had never seen before, not even when she had hexed his hair in retaliation to him elongating her buck teeth.

She shivered before picking up the photo and stuffing it into the manila folder, closing it with a quiet snap.

She set the file down on the counter and turned away from it, Malfoy's eyes still burning into her skull as she disappeared into her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

* * *

"And you didn't think to tell me that it was _Draco Malfoy_ you had been chasing when I asked about your trip at the Ministry?"

The fire crackled merrily in the small, one bedroom country home. The smell of oatmeal cookies filled the living room from the adjoining kitchen, and the comfy essence of home could be felt deep down to the bone.

Harry shifted awkwardly in the chair he occupied by the fireplace, running a hand through his bedraggled hair.

"I didn't want you freaking out," he grumbled, glancing at Hermione who sat on the couch looking sour.

"I'm not freaking out," Hermione said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not," she retorted, glaring at him from across the room. The flames cast shadows on the side of his face, but she could see he was smiling just a little bit. "What, mind I ask, is so funny?"

He shook his head, sighing. "Nothing Hermione."

She stayed quiet for a long moment, listening to Ginny bang around with pots and whatever else in the kitchen. With a hefty sigh, she threw her head back against the couch in defeat.

"I tried looking at his file last night," she said, biting her lip and raising her eyes to look at him.

He held a pillow loosely in his lap, watching her closely. "What was it like?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "It's weird, you know? They have all this personal information about him in there, his height, his weight, his family history, his grades in school, his highest level of magic, even the make of his wand. It felt so... intrusive." She wrinkled her nose at the word. "Not that I'm so much worried about intruding on Malfoy's personal life. I don't know. It just felt weird."

Harry nodded absentmindedly, staring into the fireplace. He turned his eyes back to look at her after a moment of thought. "What else did it say, about his case I mean?"

"I didn't read much into it, it was weird just looking over the simple stuff. I'm going to need more time with it," she saw the disappointment clear on Harry's face, and she knew what he must have been thinking. There would be details in there about Malfoy's involvement in the war, things that had only been guessed at and assumed about.

Harry, being a trained Auror now, was obviously curious about his side of the war, and all the things he had done that the trio hadn't witnessed first hand.

"Any news on Narcissa yet?" Hermione distracted the conversation slightly.

Harry shook his head, a frown on his face. "No.. it's strange, she fought so hard to keep Malfoy safe during the war, and now that he's been captured by the Ministry, she's just up and left."

Hermione hadn't thought about it like that before. She supposed it was odd that Narcissa would abandon Malfoy after everything they had been through, but perhaps she found it safer that he be in the hands of the Ministry rather than Voldemort. Still, the punishment seemed the same. She was still leaving her son for dead.

Or maybe she had some small faith that Malfoy would pull through during his trial and walk out a free man?

"Do you have any leads as to where she might have gone?"

"No," Harry shook his head again, rubbing a frustrated hand over his forehead. "It's like they left her behind or something. There isn't even any traces of her having been at the safe house that we found Lucius in."

A knock on the door startled the both of them out of their thoughts. Ginny entered the living room, heading towards the door with a shake of her head. "You guys act like we're still fighting a war," she said.

"Some of us still are," Hermione whispered, more to herself, but she caught Harry's eye and blushed a little at his disapproving gaze. "Sorry.."

"That was morbid Hermi-" Harry was cut off when Ginny opened the door and greeted George and Ron in their usual loud fashion of hugs and chatter.

Hermione was thankful for the distraction, and stood to embrace George as he came into the living room. He pat Harry on the shoulder before taking a spot on the couch next to Hermione. Ron came in and sat in a chair beside Harry, and for the first time in a while, Hermione felt like she was home again, surrounded by the flaming red hair of the Weasleys and the large round glasses of Harry.

She relaxed a little at the cheerful banter and conversation, and by the time Ginny brought out the oatmeal cookies she had been smelling all evening, she had almost forgotten about her case defending Draco Malfoy.

"How has the joke shop been going?" Harry asked curiously, sipping his milk and cradling an arm protectively around Ginny's waist.

"Brilliant," George piped in, eyeing the two of them for only a moment before taking a swift bite of the last cookie. "We just got a whole new shipment yesterday. Some of it's first year stuff, easy pranks and what not, but I've designed some new things as well. This one device I've just ordered in can see through walls!"

"That's not all it can see through," Ron muttered into his cup of milk.

"Pardon?" George inclined, raising an eyebrow at his younger brother.

Ron's ears tinted a dark red at being called out. "Oh, nothing, it's just that, well you might want to put a warning label on it or something, because it... it sees through other things as well."

It took Hermione a moment to deciphor his ramblings before her mouth suddenly dropped open. George, Harry and Ginny seemed confused about Ron's inability to say straightforwardly what he meant.

"You're joking," Hermione squeaked, her cheeks turning a red that was almost as bright as Ron's ears.

"I, I didn't mean to Hermione, I didn't know they did that, honest!" Ron said quickly, his eyes widening.

Harry was stiffling a laugh, pressing his face into Ginny's back, causing her to giggle a little. George looked between Hermione and Ron, his eyebrow raising slowly as realization dawned on him.

"Did I miss something Ronald? Have you been peeping?" George goaded, a brilliant smile of victory flashing acrossed his face when Ron chucked a pillow at him.

"I didn't do it on purpose!"

Hermione 'humpf'ed in exasperation, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest and throwing herself back into the couch. George laughed out right at her expense, and Ginny put a hand over her mouth.

"I'm sorry 'Mione," Ron grumbled, looking like he wanted to crawl inside himself and die. "They really aren't that bad, I don't know why you're always so-"

"Ronald!" Hermione yelled, her mouth gaping open at his words.

He sputtered some more nonsense, which sent Harry into a wave of hysterics.

It took a few moments for the room to calm down, and for Hermione to stop her racing heart. Leave it to Ron to brighten the mood of the room by doing something stupid. Hermione shook her head with a little smile, covering half her face with a hand at her own embarrassment.

"So Harry," Ron rushed on, realizing that he might be in the clear, "Where did you wander off to for so long?"

Hermione suddenly held her breath, her eyes darting over to look at Harry, who shifted Ginny from one of his knees to the other in an attempt to bide his time.

"Oh, well, first I went to Ireland for a bit, with a search team. We spent some time there, and then I went to Wales," Harry skimmed the major detail that he knew would send Ron into a fight of rage.

"What were you searching for?" The red-head asked curiously.

Harry cleared his throat, the room had gone incredibly quiet. "Well, we got what we were looking for. A fugitive Death Eater, two actually, though one was already dead."

Ron nodded at this, swiveling his head to look at Hermione. "And did Kingsley give you a new case file like you so desperately wanted?"

Hermione tried not to show her panic as she nodded, sipping some milk. "Oh, yes, he did actually."

"Well go on, what are the details of the poor bugger?"

Hermione had a feeling Ron would regret using these words to describe her client. She chanced a glance at Harry, who nodded his head curtly, before looking back at Ron. "Well.. It's definitely different than the.. 'poor buggers' that I've gotten before. I have to defend a former Death Eater from the Dementor's Kiss-"

"I thought Death Eaters weren't allowed to be excused with a trial?" Ron cut in.

Hermione blinked at him, not really believing he had been listening to her when she had been describing her court proceedings one afternoon.

"Um, yes, normally they aren't, but this one had special permission, from Dumbledore himself."

Ron's eyebrows leaped up into his hairline. "From Dumbledore? Must be some bloke, who is he?"

"Well.. it's.. well it's, Draco Malfoy."

Ron didn't seem to comprehend what she said at first, staring at her blankly as though she hadn't answered him at all. It came in a flash, the anger lighting up his blue eyes brilliantly.

"What?" he roared, and Hermione and Harry flinched at the same time. "They're letting bloody _Malfoy_ get away with murder?"

"Well, he hasn't gotten away with anything yet. He's in Azkaban right now, waiting for his trial-"

"And you're going to be defending him?" His jaw was set in that way that let her know that he was more than angry about something. He was absolutely pissed.

"I didn't really have a choice, Ronald," she spat at his accusing tone. That was a lie, actually, Kingsley had told her multiple times that she didn't need to take Malfoy's case, and that they had plenty of people who were more than willing to work on a former Death Eater's trial. But for some reason, the thought of giving up on something she hadn't even started bothered her immensly.

"I can't believe this. Dumbledore lets the wanker go after he assisted in his _murder_ and nobody seems to bat an eye-"

Harry's teeth had ground together and he seemed to be having some inner battle with himself. Hermione wondered if it was the mention of Dumbledore's death, or if he was just as livid as Ron was about the whole situation.

Hermione knew this was escalating too quickly, and she ground her fingers into her skull, squeezing her eyes against the oncoming headache that was approaching.

"Ron, calm down, would you?" Ginny snapped, unsatisfied with the tense situation they had all found themselves in.

George had gone uncharacteristically quiet, rubbing his fingers over the faint stuble on his chin. His eyes were glazed over and it seemed as though he had missed the whole conversation.

"Can't anyone do something?" Ron asked, glancing first at Hermione and then at Harry when she seemed unresponsive.

Harry waited a few moments, composing himself, before he let out a slow breath between his teeth. "Not right now. Malfoy is locked away in a cell in Azkaban until Hermione reads over his case file. Once she's decided whether or not she'll take the case, they'll set a date for her to meet with him-"

" _Meet_ with him?" Ron's anger spiked again, and Hermione's head shot up to look at him. The vein in his neck looked ready to burst and his hands were curled into tight fists in his lap. "Why would she need to meet with that tosser?"

"Ronald! Language!" Ginny roared, sounding much like Molly Weasley.

"I'll need to question him," Hermione said, trying to speak calmly. "Why he and his family took off, where his mother is, why-"

"Oh, and I'm sure he'll open right up to you over a hot cup of tea and some biscuits," Ron sarcastically spoke, "Oh yeah, if he doesn't try to leap across the table and strangle you first!"

"That's quite enough," Ginny stood from Harry's lap, waving her wand and letting her magic carry all of their cups and the empty tray of cookies into the kitchen. "I think we're all a bit tired and it'd be best if we went to bed. Harry and Hermione have a big day tomorrow at the Ministry with this file, and George and Ron need to get some sleep so they can wake up early and sell those new shipments."

George blinked, as though he were just becoming aware of the conversation, and he nodded his head at this, standing to his feet.

"As much as I love hearing you all bicker, Ginny is right," he said, kissing his little sister on the top of her head. "Come on Hermione, Ron and I will walk you back to your flat."

Nobody moved for a moment as Harry, Hermione and Ron all looked at each other. There were still a hundred things to discuss, and Harry was the first to move, sighing heavily and letting his shoulders fall back.

"We'll talk more about this tomorrow Hermione, and we'll keep you informed on what happens Ron."

Ron pursed his lips into a thin line before he stood, striding towards the front door and grabbing his coat off the hook. Hermione hesitated before she stood as well, giving Ginny and Harry each a hug before following after the Weasley boys.

Ron held out her coat for her, much to her surprise, and she slipped inside it wordlessly.

With muttered goodbyes, they exited the small home out into the cold of the night, walking exactly ten paces away from the front door before grasping hands and apparating back to Diagon Alley.

They landed on quiet feet down the road from Hermione's apartment.

George hugged Hermione goodnight before he nodded towards Ron and started off down the opposite direction towards the joke shop. Hermione glanced at Ron, who stayed standing beside her.

"Aren't you going to-"

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Ron blurted out, looking at her with those deer caught in headlight eyes.

Hermione sighed, crossing her arms over her chest, still a little uncomfortable at what he had seen earlier that day.

"Of course I know what I'm doing," she said, trying to sound confident in her answer.

His eyebrows furrowed together and he frowned for a moment, debating something with himself. "It's just... It's Malfoy and-"

"I know who he is Ron, but this is my first case on a former Death Eater. This could be huge for my career, not to mention I'd feel completely incompetent if I gave up this case before it even started, and-"

"I know, I know," Ron cut in again, letting his head hang forward a bit. His red hair covered his face and Hermione had to guess that he had his eyes closed and he was counting his breaths to calm himself down. Finally, he looked back up at her, smiling a little timidly. "Just.. be careful okay? Don't let whatever he might say get to you."

His concerned tone touched her a bit, and her rough exterior melted slightly. She smiled back at him. "When have I ever let what he's said get to me?" she asked teasingly.

Ron chuckled a little, sliding his hands into the pockets of his coat.

The air grew a little uncomfortable in the silence, and Hermione cleared her throat, trying to find something to say.

She barely had any time to think, however, before Ron's lips were pressing down onto hers.

She thought about pushing him away, half of her wanting him to forget about whatever they had almost been and to settle on being friends. But the part of her that hadn't been with anyone since she had last kissed him in the Chamber of Secrets pulled him closer to her.

Her arms snaked around his neck, and she pressed herself fully against him. His hands struggled out of the pockets of his coat before encircling her waist.

She let her fingers play with the ends of his hair, and when his tongue moved out to swipe at her lips, she couldn't help the satisfied sigh that escaped her.

He smiled into her mouth, and she smiled back, and she thought that maybe tonight everything would be okay.


	3. A Psychiatrist's Scribbles

**WARNING :**

 **Chapter contains profanity.**

 **Chapter contains strong violence.**

 **Chapter contains sensitive topic/issue/theme.**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. Any characters, items, places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

 _She didn't know what she expected to see when she slowly rounded the corner to look into the depth of his cage. Because that's what it was; a cold, iron barred cage, and he was the dangerous animal trapped inside of it, pacing back and forth, snarling in anger at being captured and kept in captivity._

 _Hermione had a strange sense that she was at the zoo, watching all the inmates of Azkaban prowl back and forth in front of the bars of their cages, flicking their tails in agitation, some of them snapping and lashing out. Their minds had completely disappeared, leaving behind empty shells; animals living purely on the instinct of survival._

 _She didn't know what she expected to see when she looked into his cage, but it definitely wasn't this._

 _He sat on the edge of a bed, which was void of any blankets or personal comforts. He was dressed in a black suit, instead of the usual gray pants and shirt that the other inmates were forced to wear. His pale skin seemed to glow like a beacon in the dingy light, and his white-washed hair was slicked back in his normal style of superiority. Everything about him seemed to shine with an inner brilliance that forced the attention of everyone around him. Even his black dress shoes were shining with perfection, as if he had just gotten them recently waxed._

 _She blinked into the cage at him, startled by his appearance. He looked completely out of place._

 _Where was the grime and dirt? The subtle hint of hysteria and paranoia that leaked from his photos into her fingertips and caused her to grow anxious?_

 _His gray eyes flashed up to look at her, and for a moment she was sure she couldn't breath. He lumbered to his feet in a remarkably smooth fashion. A smirk flitted across his features, lighting up his eyes with mischief._

 _A clinking of metal at his feet caused her to look down, and she just noticed the shackles that bound his ankles together._

 _"Granger.." her name whispered itself from his lips, and she could feel his breath down her neck, though she wasn't sure how. Her eyes snapped up to look at him._

 _"You're going to get me out of here Granger," his voice was serious, and his eyes hardened. She stiffened at the sudden switch in demeanor, from the cocky boy she remembered from Hogwarts to this intimidating man in front of her. She took a slow step backwards, feeling the need to add some distance between them._

 _"You'd have to be innocent for me to get you out of there, Malfoy," she tried to spit it at him, but she couldn't help the slight tremble in her voice. Azkaban had always skeeved her out, and it was tremendously cold in there with the Dementors, sucking the heat and life from the very walls around her._

 _A chuckle rolled from Malfoy's lips and he took a few steps towards the iron bars, his shackles dragging along the concrete floor. His slender fingers raised to take hold of the bars and he smirked out at her. "I am innocent Granger, you know that as much as I do."_

 _He pushed out a hand through the bars, reaching for her, and she jumped, startled by his sudden movement towards her. She jerked backwards, as though his touch could burn. It was then that she realized that the breath she had felt on the back of her neck was not Malfoy's at all. A pair of hands raised from behind her seemingly out of nowhere, reaching through the bars to enclose around her neck._

 _She yelped in shock, jerking her elbow back. Her first attempt to make contact failed, and she hit the bar with her elbow, jarring her momentarily._

 _A hand grasped her shoulder and swung with her fist, connecting with an inmates cheek through the bars of his cage. He snarled, blood dripping down his chin from the open cut on his dry lips._

 _She stumbled out of his reach, only to find herself trapped by another hand. Slender fingers curled around her upper arm and yanked her against iron bars. She gasped, her eyes going wide when she caught his gaze so close to her. His gray eyes no longer shone with any sarcastic humor or superiority. He was furious._

 _His gripped tightened on her arm and she wiggled against it, whimpering slightly when she felt the numbing sensation flood down to her fingertips._

 _"Listen to me Granger, and listen to me good," his voice was deadly and slithered from his mouth like the snake she had always known him to be. "You're going to get me out of here, and if you don't-"_

 _She yanked backwards, throwing up her wand and keeping herself in the center of the hallway, just barely out of reach between the outstretched arms of the prisoners._

 _"I'm going to fucking kill you Granger!" Malfoy roared, throwing himself against the iron bars and reaching with stiff fingers towards her. She froze, her eyes wide as she watched him bang himself against the bars. Blood spurt down his nose, coating his mouth and chin and the front of his robes, but he seemed completely unaware that he had damaged himself._

 _"You better fucking run Granger!" Malfoy laughed caustically, slamming himself once more against the bars and pressing his face through a gap, his fingers twitching just out of her reach. "Run, run, as fast as you can Granger.." He taunted. "You're going to fucking bleed when I get you. Bleed your dirty, disgusting-"_

 _"Stop it..."_

 _"-fucking muddied blood all over the concrete. I'll gut you myself if I have to, just to watch you die at my fucking feet-"_

 _"Stop! Stop it! Stop!"_

 _He snarled and slammed himself again against the bars, reaching and grabbing and yelling at the top of his lungs something incoherent. She was vaguely aware of the man behind her, reaching for her as well, cackling and taunting and singing 'Mudblood, Mudblood' over and over._

 _She reached her hands over her ears, closing her eyes against the sounds; the god awful sounds. The sounds of Malfoy's flesh as he rammed himself again and again in an attempt to get to her, whispering darkly about the way he'd kill her. And he meant it. Oh gods he meant it._

 _"Stop! Stop it!-"_

"-STOP!" Hermione flung herself upwards, gasping for air that she couldn't seem to get enough of in her lungs. Her forehead and body felt slick with sweat and she shoved her cotton sheets aside, throwing her legs over the edge of her bed.

Images bombarded her from all sides, blinding her as she stumbled her way through the dark towards the bathroom. She worked at the light switch with shaky fingers before she collapsed against the sink, turning on the faucet.

The sound of running water filled her ears and slowly the images of her latest nightmare began to disappear from behind her eyelids. She blinked at the light above the mirror, taking deep breaths to fill her aching lungs. She braced herself with the edges of the sink, standing on shaking legs.

Dunking her hands into the freezing water, she quickly cleaned her face and neck of any sweat.

After a few minutes of heavy breathing, she could move her limbs without shaking, and she turned off the water in the sink. The bathroom grew quiet and Hermione rubbed a hand over her face, trying to keep herself together.

What the _hell_ was that?

She sat herself down on the toilet, pressing her fingers to the crown of her head. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily, letting her shoulders drop in exhaustion.

She had suffered from many nightmares since the end of the war, most of them having to do with being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. But this had been entirely new, a whole different type of nightmare, and about something that hadn't even happened to her. She chewed on her lip, thinking a glass of wine would do her some good right about now.

She clambered to her feet and headed towards the kitchen, turning on every light as she went. When her apartment was flooded with light, she chanced a glance at the clock on the stove, groaning to herself when she realized it was four in the morning.

She poured herself a glass of wine and settled down onto the lone couch in the small living space. Placing her bare feet up on the wooden coffee table, she cradled the wine glass in her fingers and pursed her lips together, trying to make sense of it all.

She had never been scared of Malfoy before, and though the image of his mugshot was indeed quite unsettling, she couldn't imagine he'd react like that if she went to go meet him. He may be sniveling and pathetic, and he may call her every name under the sun in that condescending tone of his, but she didn't think he'd act _insane_.

She took a long sip of her wine, savoring the bitter taste with a sigh of contentment.

Her eyes unconsciously moved towards Malfoy's file sitting on the counter of her kitchen. She stared it down, bringing her nail to her lips and chewing on it.

She hadn't given it much thought to how Malfoy would react upon finding out that she was going to be the one defending him. Would he give up on life entirely and kill himself before the trial was even over? That wouldn't look good on her record.

However, she couldn't exactly see him killing himself. He seemed to love himself far too much for something as drastic as that.

Still, the prospect of having to meet with Malfoy and explain to him the situation made her a little more nervous than she would have liked to admit. She hadn't seen him in over two years, there was no telling how he would react, or what he's even been doing for all this time in hiding.

She stopped chewing on her nail when she noticed she had started humming like Ron said she did, and eyed the file again.

She didn't have to read it now, Kingsley said he'd give her a few days to think it over and she could come to him whenever she was ready to give her answer, but something in the pit of her stomach gnawed at her. She stood to her feet, walking towards the file and placing the wine glass on the counter.

She picked it up and flipped it open, skipping past Malfoy's photo and the description of his capture which she had already studied and memorized. She looked at the characteristics scribbled messily down by some psychiatrist upon his admittance to Azkaban.

She sat herself down at the counter, reading over the words in her head.

 _Flickering between anxious, paranoid, and unresponsive behaviors. Ticks include unexplained rubbing of fingers, random spouts of uncontrolled anger, and distant/uncomprehending expressions. Psychosis? Autistic? Sociological analysis recommended._

She read those lines over and over again, trying to picture Malfoy huddled in a ball, rocking and picking his finger nails and muttering about being followed. But she couldn't. She just couldn't picture it.

Harry had tried describing to her what it had been like to see Malfoy lose it in the girl's bathroom, and as adamantly as he explained everything, she could not picture that either.

The only time she had seen Malfoy even close to being uncomfortable was _that_ night at the Malfoy Manor. Her fingers moved unconsciously to the scarred word on her left forearm, but she forced herself not to dwell too long on that night. Every other time she had seen him, he had been completely and totally put together and sneering insulting comments at her under his breath behind a professor's back.

 _Psychosis._ Hermione frowned at the word. She knew from her multiple trips to St. Mungoo's and from her own research that psychosis was a disorder that disconnected a person from reality. Was Malfoy feeling some type of post traumatic stress from the war?

She flicked through the pages, putting aside the cover sheet and character sheet that she had already studied, searching for some form of collection of notes that would inform her of his mental state and where he had been these past two years.

Much to her surprise, the Ministry seemed to know nothing about Draco Malfoy. The documents in front of her skimmed over the essentials, things Hermione was already fully aware of, and that was it. The only bit of information in this folder that she did not already know were the messy scribbles of the psychiatrist.

With a look of deep annoyance, she closed the file and set it back down on the counter. She reached for her glass, rolling the red liquid around in slow circles.

She felt like she was teetering on the top of a fence, first leaning towards giving Malfoy's file over to someone else, someone more experienced and qualified, and someone who won't get all flustered just at the thought of having to question him. Then she would lean in the total opposite direction, her curiosity driving her and her stubborn attitude, not allowing him to scare her away just yet.

She drained the rest of the red liquid, making a decision in her mind. She would take Malfoy's case, at least for the time being. She would question him and try to piece together this whole mystery, and if things got too hard, or he got unmanageable, she would simply hand him off to someone else, someone who probably won't give a rats whether or not he gets killed.

She frowned.

Not that she cared whether he was sentenced to death or not, but she figured having an old classmate as a lawyer would be more desirable than some stranger.

She rubbed a hand over her face, feeling the exhaustion from her nightmare slowly overcoming her.

* * *

Hermione stood outside Kingsley's door, gripping the file tight in her fingers. Harry stood next to her, glancing at her every now and again from the corner of his eye the longer she sat there doing nothing.

She had opted not to tell Harry about her nightmare just yet, knowing that he would think the stress was too much for her and force her to hand the case over to someone else.

Instead, she had merely told him that she had decided to take Malfoy's case in an attempt to figure out more about what had happened with his mission against Dumbledore. Harry seemed to doubt this, but he wanted answers as much as Hermione did, and so he followed after her with a little shrug and a muttered 'okay.'

Now, standing in front of Kingsley's door, she couldn't help but hesitate in the slightest. She was selling her soul away, basically, to defend Draco Malfoy, a former school bully and death eater who had expressed his hatred for her on multiple occasions and had even wished for her death when they were 12.

"Maybe he isn't in yet."

Harry raised an eyebrow, finally turning fully to look at her. "Well.. I guess you'll never know unless you knock."

She bit her lip, rocking back onto the heels of her shoes. She didn't know why she was acting like such a child, but her heart was racing in her chest and she didn't know what she was even _feeling_. She felt so conflicted.

"Maybe he-"

"Hermione," Harry cut in, raising a hand to place it gently on her shoulder. "Why are you doing this if you don't want to? Someone else can easily take over the case, it's not your responsibility."

Then why did she feel so _responsible_. Just because she knew him before the war, she seemed to think that she had to help him in some way, even if she hated his guts and he got sent to the Dementor's Kiss because of her. It felt wrong to give up his file to a stranger and for the life of her she couldn't figure out w _hy_ , and that annoyed her more than anything.

"I'm fine," she said, flashing him a smile before straightening her shoulders and knocking on Kingsley's door.

His gruff, familiar voice answered back and she opened the door before Harry could have a chance to say anything else, disappearing inside and leaving him to follow after her. He closed the door behind them and they greeted Kingsley with a nod. He waved a hand to the seats across from him, but Hermione didn't sit. This was just another case, and she wasn't going to let Kingsley make it out to be anything more. She needed this to just be another case.

"I've decided to take the case," Hermione said firmly, lifting her chin a little to show her confidence.

Kingsley's eyes immediately shot to Harry, which caused her to frown. He turned his gaze back to her, noticing the file clutched in her grasp.

"Are you sure?" he asked, clasping his hands together in his lap. All business. It was just another case.

"Yes. I have decided to finish looking over his file tonight and I can meet with him tomorrow for some questioning." She was starting to feel her familiar reassurance returning to her, and she even smiled a little to show this to Kingsley and Harry as well.

Kingsley struggled for a moment with something inside his head before he nodded towards her curtly. "Very well, I will let his caretakers know immediately."

 _Caretakers_. Hermione knew he meant the Dementors of Azkaban.

She nodded her head back at him.

So it was done. She was taking Malfoy's case.

She let out a quiet sigh, glancing over her shoulder at Harry.

He stood by the door, his arms clenched tightly behind his back and a grim look marring his face.


	4. Unresponsive Behavior

_**Author's note:**_

 **Draco Malfoy's first appearance in the story. I've been waiting to write this chapter since the beginning. This is _one_ of the scenes that inspired the whole fanfiction, so let me know what you think!**

 **WARNING:**

 **Chapter contains profanity.**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. Any characters, items, places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

She had never been to Azkaban before. Of course, she had read multiple texts about the prison that held some of the world's darkest wizards in her books, but she had never pictured it to look like this.

Azkaban sat on a small island made entirely of large, jutting rocks, and could only be reached by an apparation point. It was a tall, triangular building, reaching high up into the dismal gray clouds. The ocean that surrounded it was dark and murky, and very unforgiving as it pounded against the sides of the jutting rocks, sometimes reaching high enough to splash over onto the front steps.

A shiver ran down her spine, but it was not from the chilly breeze brushing against the bare skin under her skirt or from the prospect of falling into the raging waters at such a high elevation. She barely even noticed how high up they were as she stared up at the daunting iron gates, protected by so many charms and spells that the shimmering essence of magic was clearly visible.

 _Malfoy is staying here._

She didn't know why this thought unnerved her. When she looked upon the intimidating barriers of Azkaban, she could picture truly terrifying witches and wizards being locked away in here. Wizards like Lord Voldemort and Fenrir Greyback, and witches like Bellatrix Lestrange. The kinds of witches and wizards that were fucked up in the head and liked to torture people for sport.

She just couldn't picture Malfoy inside there somewhere, chained to the wall of a cage like in her dream. He almost seemed too... _delicate_ for such a place.

"You alright Miss?"

Hermione blinked rapidly, pulling her gaze away from the towering image of Azkaban. The Auror that had been assigned to protect her while she visited Malfoy was a man she had never seen before. She guessed he was new, judging by the hopeful shine in his eyes and the softness of his hands. She couldn't help but feel slightly put out by this; a little uncomfortable that she was putting her life in the hands of a newly trained Auror.

It took her a moment to register that the new Auror had asked her a question and she quickly shook her head.

"No, I mean.. I mean yes. I mean," she sighed with some frustration, running her gloved hand over her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. She hadn't even gotten through the front door and already she was a stuttering tangle of nerves and jitters. "What did you ask me?" she huffed out finally.

He looked at her strangely for a moment before he asked again, "Are you alright? You look pale, and a little shaken-"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Hermione flapped a hand, trying to be dismissive as she noticed for the first time how high up they are. She glanced over the edge of the front entrance, biting her lip at the waves that crashed against the ragged rocks below. "I just, I'm terribly afraid of heights."

The Auror watched her closely, but he was still new, and so did not take the time to contemplate that she might be lying. A rookie mistake.

"Perhaps we should get inside then," he said, nodding his head before he approached the front gates.

Hermione sighed and quickly hurried after him, pulling her cloak tighter around herself to fight out the harsh breeze.

Upon approaching the gates, a man on the other side strode towards them. His face was completely masked by his hood, and Hermione faltered slightly, not being able to help that she thought he looked uncharacteristically like a Death Eater.

"State your business," the wizard on the other side of the gates said, peering out at them.

Hermione shook her thoughts away and strode forward. "My name is Hermione Granger, I'm here to question one of my clients pertaining to his upcoming court trial. A Mr. Malfoy."

The wizard sniffed indigintly, straightening his shoulders with defiance. "Lucius Malfoy is dead, he doesn't reside in-"

"Oh! No, no, I didn't mean Lucius," _bollocks_ "I'm here to speak to Draco Malfoy, his son."

The wizard stared her down for a long moment before he turned his back on her and started into the darkness. She gaped at his retreating form, thinking that he couldn't possibly be ignoring her.

"Is he.. coming back?" the Auror behind her asked, stepping forward. She could barely see the quivering in his shoulders, and she knew that the young man was cold, though he was supposed to be trained not to show it.

"I don't-" Hermione gasped and stepped back when the shimmering light of magic that had been dancing around the front gate began to slither and move. She stumbled over her own feet, running straight into the Auror, who grunted as he struggled to grab her before she fell down.

"You're something graceful, Ms. Granger." He said, helping her steady herself.

"So I've been told," Hermione grumbled, pulling her bushy ponytail tighter into its binding before glancing at the front gate.

The shimmering of magic slowly dissipated once reaching the top of the iron bars, and the wizard from earlier was back. He opened the gate with a wave of his wand and some wordless incantation, gesturing them inside.

"Our guard captain would like a word with you before you are granted the right to visit Mr. Draco Malfoy. Please _hurry_ inside," his tone turned annoyed quickly, and Hermione fought not to scowl at him before she and the Auror ducked inside.

The wizard closed the gates before raising his wand with another wordless flourish. A loud invisible lock slid into place and echoed through the foyer, and the shimmering of magic began to slowly crawl its way back down the iron gates' bars.

The inside of Azkaban was just as harsh as the outside, save for having the fear of death by heights. Here, the cold did not come from the harsh winds of the ocean. Instead, it came from somewhere deep inside, and Hermione knew that lurking somewhere around this giant fortress, deep within the shadows perhaps, were an uncountable amount of Dementors just waiting for someone to misbehave.

The thought made her shiver, and she folded her arms across her chest in an attempt to keep herself warm.

The foyer was made entirely of stone and the only source of light was coming from a blue ball that shimmered somewhere high up towards the top of the ceiling. It cast the room in a bath of blue hues and jumping shadows.

"This place is horrible," the Auror whispered, as though afraid that if he spoke too loud, the unseen Dementors would come looking for him.

Hermione nodded her agreement.

Her eyes landed on a flicker in the shadows, and for a moment she whipped out her wand, suddenly thinking that she was being cornered by a rogue Death Eater.

"Put it down, Ms. Granger. Your magic is useless here, I'm afraid." A man stepped out from the shadows, his whole body hidden underneath a robe and a hood drawn up over his head.

Hermione frowned at this, glancing down at the wand she held tight in her fingers.

"What do you mean magic is useless here?" the Auror asked, a hint of panic in his voice. Obviously, he had thought that should they run into any trouble, he need only use his massive knowledge of complex spells to get them out of it. Unfortunately, Hermione had been thinking something along the same lines.

"You don't think we'd take the risk of allowing magic on the premises, do you? What if a criminal were to escape his cell and acquire your wand?"

The Auror shifted uncomfortably, mumbling something incoherent under his breath. The faceless man nodded his head in approval.

"Now, you're here to see Mr. Draco Malfoy, yes?" the man asked, reaching a hand up and removing his hood for the first time. His dark hair was long and curtained his face in wavy lengths that stopped at his chin. Hermione was hit with the strange nostalgia of Severus Snape.

 _The guard captain_ , she assumed.

"Yes, I'm Hermione Granger, his defense lawyer. I just have a few questions for him and then," she paused when she noticed the man shaking his head slowly at her.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Ms. Granger, but Mr. Malfoy has been quite unresponsive since he's been here. True he responds well enough, eating and pacing, and getting into a tussle with one of the guards when they tried to search his room, for mandatory safety reasons you understand. But we as a staff have not been graced with any verbal communication from him at all. I'm afraid I don't see a point in you trying to ask him questions."

Hermione stared at the man in front of her, processing everything he was telling her. He seemed satisfied with himself as he began to raise his hood once more, turning as if to dismiss them.

"Now, if that will be all-"

"Wait.. Just... Hold on a second," Hermione huffed, her cheeks tinging pink in her frustration. "I did not come all this way to be pushed out the front door after I've only just got here."

The guard captain sighed, turning back to look at her. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you, Ms. Granger, but I have a prison to run. I can't waste my guards' time having them watching after you when I know for a fact you won't be leaving here with any more information than when you came in."

Hermione forced herself not to gap at the man in front of her.

"I need to at least see him. He needs to be aware that he has been appointed a lawyer, and should he need me in case of an emergency or a sudden trial, I-"

"I am well aware as to the duties of a defense lawyer, Ms. Granger." The guard captain's voice was angry now, and Hermione steeled herself from arguing with him. Instead, she settled for glaring at the man with as much intensity as she could muster.

He stared back at her, debating something inside his head.

When it seemed as though she wasn't going to go without a fight, he sighed in annoyance. "Very well. You may see Mr. Malfoy. I will have a guard escort you to his cell."

Hermione nodded her head, keeping her triumph to herself as she watched the guard captain turn on his heels and walk away, down a long hall and disappearing back into the shadows.

The Auror beside her shifted, clearing his throat a little. "Nice bloke."

Hermione appreciated his humor, especially in such a trying place. He reminded her of Ron a little bit, before the war.

A different man came down the hall the guard captain had come from, and Hermione knew that this would be the guard that would escort them to Malfoy's cell. She shifted slightly at the thought and tried to push it into the back of her mind.

The man greeted them politely before waving for them to follow him. He was different than the guard at the front door and the guard captain. He was not donned in a cloak and hood that hid every bit of his features. Instead, he wore a tight black sweater and a pair of comfortable combat pants. She could tell by the rigged edges on his shoulders and chest that his clothing was protected by multiple enchantment spells.

He also had a holster on the inside of his left wrist, and she could see his wand sitting comfortably inside it. She admired it from afar, thinking that those would have been useful to her and her friends during the war.

The guard stopped at a large door and turned to look at them.

"As a precautionary warning, I must inform you that because of the harsh drop in temperature within the holding blocks, you will have only one hour to conclude your interview. Please stay in the center of the walkway, as some prisoners are not bound to the walls and can slip hands through the bars."

The Auror beside her frowned. "Why would you even allow that if it were a safety hazard?"

The guard looked at him, raising an eyebrow before he said evenly, "It's better for us to stay in the middle of the hallway, than to go to collect a prisoner from their cell and realize that they've bitten through their own wrists."

The Auror paled visibly and Hermione felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She cleared her throat, trying to find her voice but found that she had nothing to say to that.

"Now, if you'll just follow me," the guard said, ignoring their reactions and turning back towards the door. The Auror had no muttered joke to contribute and merely fell into step behind Hermione.

The guard opened the door with a few waves of his wand, pushing his way into the room.

It was like stepping over an invisible line. As soon as Hermione walked into the hallway, an ice cold chill that almost made her teeth shatter settled over her. She wrapped herself up tighter in her cloak, clenching her hands together into fists under her armpits.

"Holy shit," the Auror cussed behind her, putting up the hood of his cloak. She couldn't help but agree with him.

The holding block was a little brighter than the outside halls and foyer of Azkaban, which surprised her a bit. Those blue balls of light hovered over the walkway between the cells, lighting the ground in front of them and making the magically drawn white lines shimmer. Hermione got the hint quickly, making sure she stepped in between the lines to stay out of grasping reach of any lose prisoners.

She tried not to look into the cells as she passed, but her curiosity grew as they started further into the long hallway.

She chanced a glance into a cell to her left, and immediately wished she hadn't.

The man inside the cell was skin and bones, his dull gray pants and shirt hanging off of him in an unnatural manner. This one was chained the wall, and he yanked absentmindedly on his chains, though she doubted he was aware of what he was doing. He stared off at the opposite wall, muttering under his breath. His wrists caught the light of a blue orb, and Hermione almost squeaked when she noticed the shimmering blood. He kept tugging, despite the blood, and kept muttering.

Hermione quickened her pace, keeping the guard's back firmly in her line of sight. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, and she wasn't sure if it was her own nerves or if it was the influence of the Dementors making her paranoid.

"Woah, check out this guy," the Auror's voice behind her sounded a little distant, and she and the guard stopped quickly to look behind them.

The Auror was staring into one of the cells, eyes wide and nervous, his wand twirling around in his fingers even if the magic in it was useless. The guard sighed, quickly stepping around Hermione and heading back towards the Auror.

"This isn't a museum, you can't just look at them like that, you'll upset-"

A loud, shrill yell echoed from inside the cell and a large body slammed against the bars. The Auror yelped, jumping back into the guard, who stumbled back a bit into Hermione. Her eyes had gone wide as she watched the wild thrashing of the hefty man inside the cell. Her heart quickened in her chest and she took a long breath, forcing herself to relax.

"What's he in here for?" the Auror asked, seeming to have regained his composure.

"If he's here, you don't want to know." The guard said stiffly, glaring at the Auror before they turned back to Hermione.

She almost didn't notice they were staring at her until the Auror whispered, holding out a hesitant hand towards her, "Ms. Granger.. Don't step back."

The warning tone in his voice caused her to jump and she turned quickly. She almost yelled, jerking away from the outstretched hand that reached for her. An arm wrapped firmly around her waist, and she almost panicked until she realized it was the guard who had grabbed her, pulling her back between the two safety lines.

Hermione's breathing was heavy and her eyes were wide as she stared at him. She couldn't help but shake against the firm arm of the guard. He raised his wand over her shoulder, pointing it towards the cell in front of them.

"Get away from the bars," he warned, his voice threatening.

His slender, pale fingers looked like bones, outstretched and hanging loosely towards where she had just been.

 _It can't be him._

But it was. There was no mistaking that blonde hair or those grey eyes. She had found Draco Malfoy, and he's never looked worse.

He stared out at her, his gray eyes glazed and unresponsive, as if he didn't even know that he was pressed against the bars of his cell, reaching out for her. It reminded her so much of her dream and she began to shake even harder, waiting for him to start yelling those awful things at her.

She glanced over his attire and was almost relieved to see that he wasn't wearing the black suit from her dream, but the same gray pants and shirt that all the other inmates were given. It looked odd to see him in anything but slacks and a dress shirt or sweater vest.

His fingers twitched in response to the guard's threat, but he neither moved nor made any attempt to advance. He just stood there, looking out towards them, his hand frozen in a reach for something they couldn't see.

His skin had sunken into his bones and Hermione was reminded again of a stone statue, cold and unfeeling of everything around him. His cheeks were high and sharp, and his chin was pronounced and pointed. His hair was tousled and longer than she had ever seen it. It spilled down past his eyebrows and into his eyes, hanging down the back of his neck.

"I'm warning you Malfoy, get away from the bars or I'll send you into isolation," the guard growled, releasing his hold on Hermione and taking a step towards the blonde.

Malfoy blinked, slow and unfazed at the prospect of being tortured into submission. His arm slid back into his cell, and his movements were so agonizingly slow that Hermione briefly wondered if he had experienced some type of brain damage while he had been on the run. Perhaps that would explain his lack of emotions and speech.

"That's it, now take a step back." The guard spoke as though he were talking to an untrained dog or a small child.

Hermione half expected his tone to jolt Malfoy out of his current state, but he merely looked at the wand in the guards hand with a slow, sweeping gaze before he took a step back, and then another. He stopped in the very middle of his cell, his lanky arms hanging loose by his side.

The Auror had found his way by her side now, watching Malfoy with curious eyes. "This is the man? The deadly Death Eater from your case?"

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that Malfoy was in no way deadly and then paused, shaking her head slightly. "Yes.. he is," she breathed out, her gloved hands gripping together tightly in front of her. She bit her lip, noticing that both her escorts were now looking at her for some type of guidance as to how to proceed.

"Um.. right," Hermione said, racking her brain for what her next step was supposed to be.

She took a breath, gathering her courage, before she slowly took a step towards the iron bars. She peeked into the darkness and caught his gaze. He was staring her down, his eyes unblinking and shining the coldest of greys.

She cleared her throat, waiting for some type of reaction. A snarky comment about her blood perhaps, or an irritated sneer. When nothing came, she began to fidget a little under his gaze.

"Uh, Malf-... Draco?" she asked, tilting her head a little.

His eyebrows furrowed in the slightest of ways, not in confusion, but in a cold, analyzing way. He copied her, tilting his head a little in the opposite direction. She frowned at him, thinking he must be doing this to humiliate her in front of her escorts.

"Draco Malfoy," she repeated again, straightening herself up and squaring her shoulders. "You have been imprisoned for the assisted murder of Albus Dumbledore. You have also been charged with the accusations of being a Death Eater." She hesitated, shifting her feet a little. "Do you understand the charges you are being faced with?"

He blinked at her, and it took so long for him to open his eyes again that she thought maybe he was pretending to be asleep while standing up.

"Um, right," she murmured, rubbing her gloved hands together. His eyes flickered down to the movement and she watched as he rubbed the thumb and pointer finger of his right hand together by his side. She scowled, growing annoyed with his copy cat behavior.

"Due to the... dying wish of Albus Dumbledore, you will be given a fair trial in front of the Wizengamot and the prime Minister himself to discuss your sentencing." his eyes darted up to catch hers again. "You understood that, didn't you?"

He stared her down for a long moment and then he did the last thing she thought he would do. He moved on the heels of his bare feet and turned his back to her.

Her eyebrows shot up and she gaped at his back to her. Surely he was acting like a child? What was he even doing?

The Auror beside her cocked an eyebrow, watching Malfoy just as closely as she was. "Is this a magic trick or something?"

"He's done communicating," the guard said, taking a gentle hold of Hermione's elbow and beginning to steer her back down the hallway. "I think it's best we end this on a quiet note."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder with a scowl on her face.

She forced the shock down that went through her when she noticed Malfoy was standing pressed against his cell door again. His right hand was stretched out as far as it could go into the hallway, and his thumb and pointer finger rubbed together in slow circles.

His cold eyes never wavered from her as she was escorted out of the hallway of the holding blocks.


	5. Case File Debates

_**Author's Note:**_

 **WARNING:**

 **Chapter contains Strong Scenes of a Sexual Nature**

 **Chapter contains Unsettling Graphic Descriptions**

 **Chapter contains Sensitive topics/issues/themes**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. Any characters, items, places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

Hermione combed a hand through her hair in a last minute attempt to contain the unruly curls before she raised a fist and knocked on the front door of Harry and Ginny's small country home. She had gotten the letter from Ron only an hour ago, asking her to come over and have tea with all of them. She knew the boys were curious about her visit to Azkaban earlier that day, but she wasn't quite sure if she was ready to tell them about it. Never the less, being with the boys was better than staying in her tiny apartment by herself.

The door opened and the fiery red head of Ginny Weasley appeared before her. Ginny smiled gently, noting Hermione's worn out expression and slumped shoulders.

"Hungry, 'Mione?" Ginny asked gently, holding the door open further to invite her in. Hermione smiled at Ginny's motherly tone, ducking inside the small warm house.

"Maybe some tea," she responded, shrugging off her coat. She could hear Harry and Ron in the kitchen, debating on the likelihood of a Quidditch team winning a match. She shook her head, folding her coat over her arm. "It's crazy that they can talk so freely about Quidditch."

"Well the war is over for them," Ginny shot her a pointed look and Hermione immediately knew that Ginny had heard her comment from a few nights ago. Either that or Harry had told her about it.

 _Git_.

"Sorry," Hermione whispered, but Ginny merely waved the comment off, taking Hermione's coat from her and putting it away in the hall closet.

"Come, they've been waiting for you," Ginny said, heading towards the kitchen. Hermione followed her, suddenly feeling a bit panicked about having to explain everything to the boys. She hadn't even had enough time to process it herself, how was she supposed to tell them about it?

They walked into the kitchen to find Harry and Ron seated at the table. Ron had a large plate of some type of gelatin dessert in front of him, while Harry sipped on a cup of black tea. His green eyes darted towards her as soon as she entered and he frowned worridly at her appearance.

"Long day?" he asked, pushing a chair out with his foot under the table. Ginny went to make more tea at the counter and Hermione sat herself down in the offered chair.

"Something like that," she said, frowning when Ron shoved a large spoonful of gelatine into his mouth.

"'Ow was A'kaban?" Ron spoke through his mouthful of food.

Hermione chanced a glance at Harry, who raised an eyebrow at her as if to say ' _you're the one that likes him_.' She tried not to flush a little in embarrassment before she snapped, "Don't talk with your mouth full like that Ronald."

The tips of his ears turned bright red and Ginny giggled from the counter, placing a tea bag into the hot water of a cup and pouring in some milk. Ron forced a swallow while Ginny came over and set the tea in front of Hermione before sitting down in the last open seat at the table.

"Sorry," Ron muttered, scratching sheepishly at the stubble that was growing on his jaw. "How was your trip to Azkaban today?" he tried again.

Hermione tensed briefly, pursing her lips together. She could feel all eyes on her, and opted to sipping some of her tea as a distraction. When it was clear that no one was going to speak until she answered Ron, she cleared her throat and took a breath, wondering where to begin.

"Well, I went there with an Auror as a guard. He was new, fresh from training I think," Hermione made a face at the thought. "He was a nice boy, a bit too humorous for the situation I think."

"It was probably Steinfield," Harry offered, though Hermione really had no way of confirming whether he was right or not.

"Yes well.. I do wish they had given me an Auror that was a bit more trained," Hermione said, trying not to sound like she was wasting time. "It was like having a Hogwarts student escort me."

A collective chuckle echoed through the kitchen before falling silent once more.

"Did you find Malfoy?" Harry asked, almost forcing the question out. Hermione locked eyes with him, and she knew that he knew. He knew what Malfoy was like. He was the one who had captured him, of course he knew what sort of mental state Malfoy was in.

She was still slightly angry at Harry for not warning her beforehand. He didn't have much information, but it was more than she had, and he was hiding it from her. Perhaps he didn't want to warn her because he wanted her to experience it first hand, and therefore fight to have Malfoy imprisoned longer.

She knew Harry didn't want Malfoy out, despite what Dumbledore said about the boy. She understood where he was coming from, and though she wasn't particularly confident that she could fight for his freedom, she at least had to try. It was her job, after all, no matter who her client was.

"Yes," she started slowly, lifting the tea bag with unconscious fingers and swirling it around in her cup. "Yes, I found him."

Ron glanced between Harry and Hermione, obviously missing out on whatever it was that they knew, and suddenly it was the forest of Dean all over again.

"What was he like?" Ron asked, almost a little bitterly. Hermione turned her gaze to him and tried not to let on how severe the situation was.

"He was... different," she settled for the word even when she knew it did not give justice to what she experienced that day. "He looks so bad," she mused, dropping the tea bag back into the cup.

"Yeah, he really does," Harry chimed in, taking a sip of his tea and shaking his head. He closed his eyes against something that nobody else in the room could see. "You should have seen his father when we found him. He was.." Harry shook his head again, his jaw shifting as he clenched his teeth tight together. "He was.. completely mutilated."

Ron frowned at this. "What was it that killed him do you suppose?"

Harry opened his eyes, reaching an arm up and placing it comfortably along the back of Ginny's chair. Hermione tried not to let the pang of loneliness sweep over her. Though Ron had kissed her a few days ago, they had not acted any differently towards each other since then. And Hermione knew why he had done it. He had simply been lonely.

Seeing Ginny and Harry together does that to people, Hermione assumed. They were so perfect for each other in every way. Ron had simply been lonely and had used Hermione as an escape, like they had done during the war. Caught up in the feelings that weren't actually there.

She tried not to sigh, forcing her head away from the painful topic.

"I don't know," Harry said, a concentrated look on his face. "The Hit Wizards say that his wounds were magic inflicted, like someone with a wand had attacked him. There were slashes all over his body and his face, I almost couldn't tell if it was really him. If it wasn't for that god awful hair..." Harry shook his head again, trying to push the images from his head.

Hermione took another sip from her tea, her eyebrows creasing together in repulsion at the image in her head. She couldn't imagine actually seeing something like that in person. Though she had seen many things during the war, a mutilated corpse had never been one of them. The worst she had seen was when she had splinched Ron's shoulder.

"How did Malfoy look?" Ron turned his gaze towards Hermione, bringing her back to reality.

"Ill," she said immediately, and then scowled. "He's so skinny, like he hasn't had a proper meal in months."

Ron snorted slightly, rolling his eyes. "He wasn't exactly the fittest bloke growing up either."

Hermione shook her head at Ron's comment. "This is different. Malfoy has always been slender, yes, but this is... it's like he's skin and bones. Like all the muscles in him have disappeared."

"They've been on the run for nearly two years," Harry piped in. "The Malfoy's are so well known in the wizarding world... they wouldn't have been able to just waltz into any old establishment and have a bite to eat."

Hermione tried to picture it. She tried to picture Malfoy digging in the garbage for scraps, dirt covered and crazy eyed. But even after what she had seen today, she just c _ouldn't_ picture it.

"What happened after you found him?" Ron asked after a moment of contemplating silence.

"Did you find anything out from him?" Harry added in, his green eyes burning with curiosity. Hermione took a breath and slowly let it out.

"No, I didn't find anything out," she started, and she saw the disappointment in Harry's eyes though he said nothing. "It would've been impossible to try and speak with him. He wasn't communicating at all. He just... stood there, and looked at me. He didn't even make any snarky remarks or comment on my blood."

Ron scowled at this, taking another large bite of gelatin. Harry ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"He was like that when we found him," he said. "We saw him a few meters down the road. We all thought he would take off, of course, so we had our wands on him. I called out to him, to try and get him to react in some way. We got closer and closer, and he just stood there, looking at us. He didn't even flinch when Seamus got a hold of him. It was like he _wanted_ to be caught."

A thick silence filled the kitchen and Hermione lifted the cup of tea to her lips, taking another sip. Nobody said anything, each occupied with their own thoughts as the clock ticked somewhere off in the distance and Ron's spoon scraped along the bottom of the plate.

"How am I supposed to defend him Harry?" Hermione finally asked, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back into her chair.

She didn't want to show them how defeated she was with the whole thing, and she didn't want them to think she was regretting taking the case, but _how was she supposed to defend him_? He wasn't even completely there it seemed like.

How was she supposed to defend someone like Draco Malfoy, the boy who spent years calling her names and taunting her because of her looks or because of her blood. How was she supposed to defend the boy who picked on her friends and sneaked Death Eaters into the castle and tried to kill Albus Dumbledore?

She knew she had to. She knew that if she gave up on this, she would forever be stuck defending the same type of 'poor buggers' that she had been defending up until she had been given Malfoy's case.

Even if Kingsley did have strong faith in her, there would be no convincing the Wizengamot that she was capable enough to take on better cases if she couldn't even do this one. She had to at least try.

But _how_?

Harry's hand slid across the table and grasped her's tightly, pulling her from her thoughts to look up at him.

"Together. You've got me, and Ron, and Kingsley, we're all here to support you. We're not going to let this case drag you down," he tightened his fingers in a comforting embrace before letting her hand go.

She couldn't help but smile at him and take a calming breath. She should've known that Harry wouldn't let her career disappear with this case. She should've known they would be there for her.

"Okay," she said, nodding her head to try and encourage herself to have faith. "Okay, we'll do it."

Ron pushed the empty plate away and leaned back into his chair. He looked sour about something, but Hermione didn't have time to contemplate his mood swings, especially so late at night.

* * *

"I should be going home," Hermione said, after an hour of light chatter. She finished off the last of her tea and stood to her feet, stretching her arms over her head. "I have to look over Malfoy's case again. Whether he talks to me or not, Kingsley will want his first hearing to be sometime soon, and I'll need all the help I can get until I can get anything useful out of him."

Ginny had retired a half an hour ago, having to get up early in the morning to go visit Molly. She warned Ron to do the same with a small hint of a threat in her voice, smiled towards Hermione, kissed Harry's cheek and left. Hermione appreciated Ginny's motherly tone, and she only wished that she were closer to the girl than she was.

She picked up her empty cup, throwing away the tea bag into the bin before placing it in the sink. Ron followed her lead, standing to his feet as well.

Harry nodded from his seat. "Don't worry yourself thin about this Hermione," he said seriously. "We'll figure it out. Just like we always do."

Hermione gave him a hug before her and Ron started out into the main hall. He still seemed to be in a sour mood as they began to put on their coats, but she was too strained to think much about it. She didn't have time to baby sit him when her career hung in the balance.

They walked out of the house, taking exactly ten steps forward before Ron's hand came out and grasped hers and they apparated into thin air.

Landing on their feet, Hermione was hit with a blast of cold night air that tinged her cheeks pink. She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck before glancing up towards her apartment building.

She was just about to turn and tell Ron goodnight when suddenly he was rounding on her.

"I want you to drop this case," he said with a tone of finality.

Hermione's mouth gaped open at him, blinking stupidly. She had no idea what to say to him. She mouthed a few words but nothing came out and Ron saw her struggling.

"I don't think it's safe," he quickly rushed on. "I know this is important for your career and all-"

"Yes, it is important to my career," Hermione butt in, having found her voice again.

"-But Malfoy is completely mad by the sounds of it. Incredibly bonkers. He shouldn't be allowed back into society and you shouldn't be fighting for him-"

"I'm his lawyer, it's not like I'm fighting for him because I care about him, it's just-"

"-Your job, I know, and what would be worse? You dropping the case because you don't agree with who you're fighting for, or you losing the case because Malfoy will never be fit to join society again?"

Hermione snapped her mouth shut, clenching her teeth and mulling over what he had just said to her. She knew that fighting for Malfoy seemed like a lost cause, which was exactly why she needed to do this. If she could prove Malfoy innocent, or at the very least prove his insanity and save him from the Dementor's Kiss, her career would sky rocket.

No more would she have to deal with defending a drunken wizard who had been caught doing magic in front of muggles or anything stupid like that. She would be given real cases, with real witches and wizards who needed her help. It was everything she could ask for, and as strange as it was to think about, Malfoy was her golden opportunity. She needed him. She needed his case.

"Ron, I don't think you-"

"What? Understand? But Harry understands doesn't he?" Ron fumed.

Hermione blinked at him, her mind turning slowly.

"Is that what this is about?" she asked stiffly. "This is about Harry and I being involved with something that you're not?"

Ron turned his back on her, running a hand through his hair and then shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.

Hermione couldn't help but feel... something. She didn't know what it was, but watching Ron get all protective over her made her feel something.

She took a slow step towards his back, reaching a hand out and touching his shoulder. He didn't move or look at her.

"Ron..?" she watched as he turned his head enough to look at her with one striking blue eye and she knew she had been right with her accusation. Her shoulders slumped and she took another step towards him, bringing her other hand up to touch his back. "Ron, it's not like that."

Ron rolled his eyes, clenching his teeth, but he didn't say anything in return.

"Ron, Harry works for the Ministry. He's the one who brought Malfoy in, that's the only reason why he's on this case with me. And he's my friend, why wouldn't he help me as much as he could?"

Ron shifted under her question and he sighed, turning his head to look at her. "I want to help too," he grumbled, sounding like a stubborn child. Hermione smiled lightly.

"Then don't tell me to drop the case, okay?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

He blinked at her for a moment, the gears in his head turning, before he suddenly dipped his head and caught her lips on his. She stiffened at first before immediately relaxing into him. His arms came up and encircled around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His lips moved against hers and she fought to stifle the sigh of contentment that rushed to leave her.

He pulled back, leaning his forehead down against her's and looking at her through his eyelashes. His breathing was slightly erratic and the thought made something in her abdomen stir.

"Let's go upstairs."

And the way he said that, she knew she couldn't say no.

She nodded her head, taking a hold of his arm and pulling him through the front door of her apartment building. She lead him up the stairs to her floor and stopped in front of her door, pulling out her keys from her pocket.

Ron's lips touched her neck and she jumped at the contact, momentarily forgetting what it was that she was doing. His hand moved down her shoulder and her arm and he steadied her hand before sliding the key into the lock and turning it for her.

She let him steer her, feeling the door open and stepping inside.

He closed the door behind him and took off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor before he walked up to her. Her cheeks were flushed, but not from the cold of the outdoors. She watched as his hands came up and pulled at her scarf, tossing it aside before working on her coat. Her heart pounded in her chest and she suddenly realized how nervous she was.

Her coat fell away and he was kissing her again, moving her back until she hit the counter top of the island in her kitchen. She let her arms snake around his neck as his tongue darted out to lick her lips. She could feel the persistence and loneliness in his mouth, and she sighed into him, opening her mouth and allowing him in.

Her kiss was short lived when he suddenly broke away again, grabbing the shoulders of his shirt and yanking it up and over his head. She felt her cheeks blush even more and her hands skimmed over the feverish skin of his chest and shoulders. He was breathing heavy, his hair sticking up from the static of his shirt before he leaned down and kissed her hungrily again.

It was sloppy and rushed and before she had much time to think about it, she was lying on her back in her bed in her bra and knickers, and he was over her in just his boxer briefs with his stiff erection pressing against its restraints.

She tried not to think about what she was doing. She tried not to notice that she was about to lose her virginity to Ron.

His hands skimmed over her stomach before reaching down and tugging at the bands of her knickers. She tensed, her hands clutching at his hair even though his lips continued to move along her neck. He tugged again and Hermione bit her lip before slowly lifting herself up and allowing him to slide them off.

She had never felt so exposed before and she forced down the blush that felt like it was consuming her whole body in flames.

He rolled onto one side, reaching down and pulling his own briefs off, letting his erection spring from its constricting binds. Hermione immediately turned her gaze away from him, biting her lip harder when he rolled back on top of her.

She gripped his shoulders in a death grip of nerves as he moved himself over her, allowing her wetness to coat him. She stiffened when he positioned himself at her entrance and thrust forward. It was pain like nothing she had experienced since the war and she gasped out, gripping his skin tight in her fingers.

She felt him grunt in pain at the pressure she was applying to his shoulders, but he said nothing as he pulled his hips back and thrust forward again, moving a little deeper inside of her. She whimpered at this, biting her lip and throwing her head back to keep from calling out. She had the strong urge to push him away, but she knew she couldn't. If she did that, he would be more offended than when they had left Harry's house.

She quietly let him thrust into her, and thankfully it only took him three more times before he came undone over top of her. His eyes squeezed shut and his muscles tensed before she felt him fill her up, thrusting forward hard one more time.

She tried to hold back the tears that brimmed her eyes when he pulled out of her, falling onto his back beside her. She stared up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly and trying to comprehend what had just happened.

This was supposed to be a good was what she had been waiting for, wasn't it? Ever since she had discovered her feelings for Ron, she thought that this was supposed to be one of the high points of her relationship with him.

Then why did it feel so _bad_?

His arm flung itself across her midsection and she tried not to wince when he pulled her into him. His chin rested on the top of her head and she tried to take comfort in his embrace but none came. Her abdomen was on fire and her thighs felt chaffed.

"Hermione," he murmured happily, kissing the top of her head as she tried to keep from shaking.

A few moments later she heard his telltale snores that informed her that he was asleep, and she finally allowed the tears to fall down her cheeks as quietly as she could.


	6. Daily Prophet Lies

**_Author's Note:_**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. Any characters, items, places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

He was gone before she even woke up.

She didn't know how she was supposed to process that type of information.

She had woken up stiff jointed and blurry eyed, wrapped up comfortably in her cheap cotton sheets. It had taken her a moment to realize where she was or what exactly had happened the night before, it felt so foggy and surreal, almost like she had dreamed it. But the pain between her legs quickly reminded her that she definitely hadn't dreamed it.

She had rolled over, expecting to see him there. He wasn't, of course, having had to leave to go visit his mother with Ginny, and she had spent the next fifteen minutes fingering the sheets where he had once been sleeping. They had been cold, and she knew that he had been gone for quite some time.

She sighed, running a hand through the knotted tousles of her hair before sitting up. Even though she was more than alone, she kept a firm grip on her blankets as she pushed herself to her feet. She wobbled a little bit, her legs feeling a tad shaky. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel after losing her virginity, but she didn't think it was supposed to be like this.

She walked over to the lone window in her room, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness inside of her as realization set in. She had just lost her virginity and now she was waking up alone. She felt used in a way. Like she had done something shameful and she felt dirty for it.

She tried forcing herself to feel differently. She tried being happy that it had at least been with Ron and not with a total stranger, and at least she had woken up in her own bed besides someone else's, but that hardly made her feel any better.

She bit her lip hard, forcing back the lump that was forming in her throat, and squeezed her eyes shut tight.

No, she wouldn't cry. She would not allow herself to cry over something as silly as this. She was a grown up, this was bound to happen eventually, whether this was the right way or not. And even if it wasn't supposed to happen like this, it was already over and there was nothing she could do to change it. There was no use in crying over something that she could no longer do anything about.

She had every opportunity last night to stop him if she had wanted to badly enough. It wasn't like he had forced himself upon her, though she did know that she felt somewhat trapped, like if she had told him to stop he would have been offended and even more upset than before. But she knew that was just an excuse. If anyone was to be blamed for what happened last night, it was her.

She rubbed at the base of her neck, sighing as she watched a lone wizard wander along the alleyway beside her apartment building. She wondered if he was going to work, or perhaps into town to buy a few essentials before the rush of the afternoon crowd overpowered the streets.

Feeling stiff and a little sore, she headed for the bathroom. She discarded her blanket cocoon on top of the toilet seat and turned on the hot water. She waited until it was the perfect temperature, letting the water run over her fingertips, before stepping inside, lulling her head back with contentment when the warm droplets ran through her hair and down her back.

She worked on getting the knots out of her hair, a task that could very well take up to a half an hour. She let her mind go numb as she ran through the familiar movements, closing her eyes and breathing in the mist that had begun to fill up the air around her.

When she was all washed and her skin tinted red from the constant beat of warm water, she turned off the shower and stepped out into a bathrobe. With a quick flick of her wrist, her hair dried and she pulled her curls back into a messy bun on the top of her head.

She stared into the mirror, running fingertips along the curve of her neck. She tried to imagine Ron's lips on her skin, but she hadn't the faintest memory of how it had felt. Shouldn't she at least relish in that?

She sighed in frustration, leaving her bathroom and heading out into the kitchen.

She almost expected to see a note from him, either on her fridge or maybe on the counter, apologizing for leaving her so early and without even an uttered goodbye, but the only thing that greeted her upon entering the room was Malfoy's case file. She stared it down for a long moment, biting the inside of her cheek and trying to push down her wave of disappointment, before she padded over to the counter and sat down on one of the stool.

She placed her hands on the counter in front of Malfoy's file and stared down at it, as if she expected something to happen. When nothing did, she opened the file and looked down at the black and white mugshot.

He stared up at her, his dark eyes angry and dangerous, with that awful sneer crawling onto his face. He looked absolutely murderous, yet calm and surreal at the same time, almost like he wasn't completely aware that his face was making the all too familiar expression. She forced herself to watch him repeat the same action over and over again, memorizing every detail and curve of his face.

She noticed the dip in his chin and the furrow of his brow, the lift of the right side of his face when he sneered, the exhausted folds under his eyes and the curve of his jaw meeting his neck. She didn't know why she suddenly felt the need to do this; to memorize him like she was. Perhaps it was Harry's words of encouragement from the night before. Perhaps she was beginning to feel that, as impossible as this case might be, maybe she would actually be able to end it in her favor.

She knew proving his innocence was out of the question. He had knowingly, willingly, and successfully let at least four Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and had organized and assisted in the murder of Dumbledore. She would have to erase the entire wizarding world's memory in order to win that statement. But perhaps she could prove his insanity.

Her fingertips touched the point of his chin in the photo and he sneered up at her, as though he could actually feel her touching him.

It wouldn't be hard to prove his insanity. It seemed as though he hardly spoke anymore, which could be considered a blessing for many people, though very uncharacteristic, and his appearance was rather convincing at least. Getting him to agree to it, however, was a whole different story. By proving his insanity, he would be forced to stay in protective care of a foster home or at St. Mungoo's for the rest of his life; until he was deemed fit to re-enter society. Which, by the severity of his case, he would have to wait many years before he was released for it to look convincing.

For some reason she highly doubted that he would think being looked after like he was child was a better alternative to the Dementor's Kiss.

She scowled gently down at his photo, her mind turning slowly inside her head.

She didn't know how long she sat there, lost in her own thoughts with a small puddle forming under her stool, until the screech of an owl jerked her back to reality. She whipped around to see the barn owl sitting on the table in her living room. He hooted in aggitation, holding out his leg towards her with a letter attached to it.

She could vaguely see the Ministry's crest on the back of the letter and she stood to her feet, walking towards the owl and untying the letter from his leg. The owl wasn't waiting for a response, for as soon as the letter was free from his leg he turned and took off out the open window again.

Hermione walked towards the window and closed it, her eyebrows furrowing as she opened the letter and glanced at Kingsley's neat handwriting.

 _Ms. Granger,_

 _I would like to speak with you about the upcoming dates for your hearing with Mr. Malfoy. I would appreciate it if you came by my office sometime today._

 _Kingsley_

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before shaking her head. This would be a good distraction, she forced herself to think. She needed something to occupy herself with that wasn't Ron.

She set the letter on the counter by Malfoy's file before walking into her bedroom and changing into a pair of slacks and a white button down. She kept her hair in its messy bun, since she was sure she wasn't going to be carted off to a hearing today.

Shoving Malfoy's picture back into his file and snapping it shut, she tucked it under her armpit and left her apartment.

Apparating to the Ministry and being swept away into the hustle and bustle of the never ending crowd of important wizards and witches who had important places to be, Hermione instantly began to forget about her worries that morning pertaining to a certain red haired boy. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she hurried through the crowd to catch the elevator that would take her to her floor.

She stood between two brute men in the elevator, Hit Wizards she would guess that they are, and she tried not to let their broad shoulders squish her. Her eyes darted towards the newspaper in one of the man's hands when she caught a flash of a familiar face.

It was the same exact photo that was kept safely tucked away in the file under her arm. Malfoy's sneering face covered most of the front page, and she squinted her eyes in an attempt to read the article scrawled underneath it.

She hadn't realized she had been inching her face closer to the print until she heard the man clear his throat. A blush crept through her cheeks when she caught his gaze and she immediately moved away, bumping into the other man.

"I, I'm sorry," she muttered, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

The men shared a glance before he held out the newspaper to her.

"You could've just asked," he said gruffly, as the elevator stopped and him and his companion exited onto the floor. She felt more flustered than she should have, she was a trained defense lawyer for Godric's sake.

"T-Thank you!" she called out after them, smiling the best she could. They neither stopped nor turned to look at her while the elevator doors closed once more.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the elevator wall with a groan. Taking a breath to calm herself, she opened up the newspaper and stared at the front page. She barely looked at Malfoy's photo, which was obviously meant to be some sort of eye-catcher to the public, and moved down to the article. Her brows furrowed together as she read, a sudden anger flaring up inside of her chest.

The elevator door opened on her floor and she jumped out, nearly bumping into two other lawyers who were attempting to get into the elevator. She didn't even have the mind to apologize as she stormed to Kingsley's office.

She threw open the door without so much as a knock and slapped the newspaper down on top of the files that he had sitting in front of him. She put her hands on her hips, tapping her foot and watching her boss with a stern expression.

He didn't bother looking up at her. Instead, he waved his wand to close his door and rested his forehead into the palm of one of his hands. When it was clear that he wasn't going to look at her or say anything, she ceased in her foot tapping and pointed at the newspaper, as if it wasn't already obvious what she was about to speak about.

"What is that?" her tone came out harsher than she had anticipated and she tried to take a calming breath.

Kingsley rubbed at his eyes before picking up the newspaper, folding it, and tossing it onto the other side of his desk. He folded his hands into his lap, like he normally did when they were about to talk business, and looked into her eyes.

"We needed to run it."

Hermione's face twisted into a look of confusion and impatience.

"You _needed_ to run it?" she questioned, one of her eyebrows raising suspiciously.

Kingsley waved a hand over at the piles of papers on his desk, never taking his eyes off of her.

"These are death threats, from wizards and witches both muggleborn and pureblood alike. They all want him dead-"

"So you _lied_?"

Kingsley looked at her sternly, his jaw clenching so tight she was surprised he didn't break a tooth or pull a muscle. His shoulders were ridged and he looked like he hadn't slept in days, and though normally she would feel bad for causing him anymore distress than what he was already dealing with, she couldn't help but be completely appalled by what she had read.

"Hermione.. It's not far from the truth-"

"Except it isn't the truth." she crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly.

"Oh? And how do you know that?" Kingsley leaned back into his chair, a slightly critical tone in his voice. "Did he speak with you when you went to question him? Did he outright tell you that he _wasn't_ insane, or suffering from any traumatic experiences? Did he tell you his whole story about why he was on the run? Because you seemed to have failed to come to me with any of this information that could've prevented this-" he pointed to his desk, "from happening."

Hermione pursed her lips into a tight line, standing still for a long moment. She knew they didn't have anything to go on, and she knew the wizarding world was gripping at strings that didn't even make sense in order to capture all of the death eaters who have escaped, but she couldn't just excuse such outright lies. They didn't _know_ anything about Malfoy, or his family, or why they had fled and what exactly they had been doing for the past two years. He was her client, and Kingsley had rightly made a mess of things before their first hearing had even been conducted.

She fell down into the chair on the other side of his desk, watching him closely.

"No, I didn't learn anything. Which is why _nothing_ should have been reported at all."

Kingsley said nothing, watching as she reached for the newspaper and opened it, staring at the front page for a long moment before clearing her throat.

" _Draco Malfoy, recently captured after his two year absence following his flee during the second wizarding war, was questioned yesterday from Azkaban prison on his motives and his intelligence about the death eaters and Lord Voldemort by his lawyer Ms. Hermione Jean Granger. Draco refused to speak about his affiliation with the dark side of the war and neglected to answer any questions pertaining to his where about over the past two years. Malfoy's father, Mr. Lucius Malfoy, was found dead not long after Draco's capture. Details about Mr. Malfoy's death has not been released to the public. However, it is reasonable to believe that Narcissa Malfoy is still missing. She was not found with her son or her dead husband and seems to have abandoned them sometime in the past two years. The where about of his mother, Draco stated to Ms. Granger many times during their interview, was his only concern. He promised under oath that should his mother be safely captured and prosecuted, that he would tell the Ministry anything they needed to know about the other death eaters who have gone missing. Any word or helpful tips on where to find Narcissa Malfoy can be sent, by owl, directly to Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt._ "

She looked up at him incredulously, throwing the newspaper back down onto his desk. She stood to her feet, clenching her hands into angered fists at her sides. Kingsley sighed heavily, running a tired hand over his face.

"It was a strategic business move,"

Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes. Kingsley ignored her and pushed on.

"People are still on edge, Hermione. They want all of the escaped death eaters rounded up and put away for the rest of their lives. The people want peace. By releasing this article, I not only gave them a moment of peace in knowing that two more death eaters were dead or put away, but I also enlisted the whole of the wizarding world to help search for Narcissa Malfoy."

"And when Narcissa is caught?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you really think Malfoy will tell us anything knowing we lied on his behalf, locked away his mother and will proceed to charge him with murder?"

Kingsley looked up at her, a serious expression on his face. "I thought that by the time Narcissa is caught, you would've gotten a statement out of him."

"You're not making it particularly easy, Kingsley," she said, sitting herself down once more. All that confidence she had felt early about the case and with Harry's comforting words had been swept out the door. "I'm expected to fight _for_ him. How am I supposed to win this case if the Daily Prophet, and the rest of the wizarding world, is against him?"

Kingsley eyed her carefully before his shoulders slumped.

"I know this isn't easy, Hermione, and as I have said before you don't need to take this case."

She stared back at him but didn't say a word. He already knew what her response was to this argument.

"However, knowing your persistence, and admiring your dedication, I have decided to help you with your case."

Hermione's eyebrows pulled together, a disapproving look casting over her features.

"Kingsley, you're not allowed to help me with my case. As Minister of Magic your duty is to stay neutral in all court cases and hearings, no matter what the circumstances."

He nodded his head at her words. "I am well aware of my duties, Ms. Granger. I wasn't offering my own help, I was just offering _to_ help."

"Sir?" she asked, scowling over at him in confusion.

"There has been word of a young wizard who, reportedly, knows much about the Malfoy family case. He's been studying it for some time now, while he studied at law school. He has just graduated and has offered to extend his knowledge of the subject to you, in hopes of helping with Malfoy's case and, perhaps, gaining a bit of side glory in the process."

Hermione considered this, feeling that small ball of hope rise up inside of her again the same way it had when Harry had comforted her, and when she had been sitting at her counter earlier that morning reviewing Malfoy's file.

"Kingsley, that's fantastic," she said, feeling a little of the weight lift off of her shoulders at the prospect of having a partner help her with this case.

"It was the least I could do," Kingsley said, pulling out an envelope from the stack of papers in front of him. "I have scheduled for Mr. Malfoy's first hearing to take place Friday. Unfortunately, your partner won't be able to join your team until after the hearing has been concluded and you have been given the date of your second hearing, standard procedures your understand."

She nodded her head, reaching a hand out for the envelope he held in his grasp. He handed it over to her.

"Inside is the room and time of the hearing on Friday. Mr. Malfoy will be taken from his cell in Azkaban and placed inside the room before the Wizengamot is present. I expect you to be there before hand as well, for the professionalism aspect."

She stood to her feet, slipping the envelope inside Malfoy's file before picking up the newspaper and holding it gingerly in her fingers. She thought for a long moment before she glanced up at Kingsley and caught his eyes.

"Malfoy shouldn't know about this," she waved the newspaper a little bit to clarify her meaning. He seemed to consider this for a moment before he nodded his head in agreement.

"I will make sure to put in word to the Wizengamot about the matter."

Hermione nodded her head in affirmation before she turned and started out the door.

"And Hermione?"

She turned to look over her shoulder at him, her hand poised over the doorknob. Kingsley looked a little uncomfortable, sitting in his chair at his desk which was piled high with death threats.

"You will have.. s _omething_ to present to the Wizengamot on Friday, won't you?" he tried to keep his voice professional while still conveying to her the urgency of this first hearing.

She pursed her lips together, feeling her heart hammering inside her chest in panic.

"Of course," she said, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing.

He stared her down and for a moment she thought maybe he was reading her mind, before he nodded his head and turned his gaze back down to the stack of papers in front of him.

"Very good."


	7. A Secret Tick

_**Author's Note:**_

 **I'm so excited to hear people's enthusiasm about this fanfiction. I know the first few chapters have been a bit dull and Malfoy was hardly present in them, but I can assure you that things will begin to pick up, especially after the first hearing (which will take place in the next chapter) and we will be seeing much more of Malfoy.**

 **That being said, thank you to everyone who is following along!**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. Any characters, items, places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

 _How_ was she supposed to defend him?

Hermione ran a frustrated hand through her hair, hunching down further over the desk in her office and staring incessantly at Malfoy's mugshot. She didn't know what time it was, though she was sure it must have been sometime well into the night.

After speaking with Kingsley about Malfoy's upcoming hearing, it had finally dawned on her that she had nothing to present to the Wizengamot that they already didn't know. Malfoy had let death eaters into the castle, he had assisted in Dumbledore's death, he had worked as a death eater for Lord Voldemort, he had the Dark Mark as proof, he had fled during the second wizarding war with his family, he had been missing for two years, he was captured by Harry Potter and now he sat in Azkaban prison. There were no loopholes. She couldn't prove his innocence, so she would prove is insanity. But _how_?

She groaned, closing the file and roughly pushing it away before pressing her fingers into her skull. She had to think. Her mind was too clouded with Ron and she wasn't thinking clearly.

She pictured the first, and last time, she had gone to visit Malfoy.

He had been secluded and silent, something she really wasn't expecting. She had assumed that he would be the same boy she had met at school, scowling over how dirty his cell was or refusing to accept her as his lawyer. He had done neither of those things, instead he had watched her with cold, calculating eyes, like he was planning something even when there was nothing to plan.

And his fingers. What had he been doing with his fingers?

She lifted her head from her hands, rubbing her thumb and pointer finger together in the same fashion Malfoy had.

Perhaps it was a calming technique, or just a habit he had picked up while on the road.

She realized quite suddenly that she knew nothing about this Malfoy. The Malfoy from Hogwarts she knew as well as anyone can know the person who hates them, but this Malfoy was a complete mystery to her.

She opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out a piece of parchment and quill before she began to write a letter to Azkaban requesting another meeting with Malfoy. She sealed the letter with the Ministry seal and began to pack up her things. She was just about to turn off the lamp on her desk when a knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, watching the door with her wand gripped tight in her fingers. Old precautions from the war died hard, she supposed.

The door opened and the messy flop of Harry's hair peered into the room. He smiled at her and his presence caused her to relax.

"For Godric's sake Hermione, what are you doing here so late? I almost couldn't believe I saw the light coming from under your door," he waved a dismissive hand towards the lamp on her desk.

"I've been going over Malfoy's case file. His first hearing is-"

"Scheduled for Friday yes," Harry cut in. "Kingsley told me," he clarified at her confused look. "Do you have anything for the Wizengamot yet?"

She sighed heavily, running a tired hand over her face. She already felt like she had heard that question too many times today.

"No, I don't. But I'm requesting another interview with him tomorrow. Maybe I can get something out of him then," She flicked her wand and the lamp on her desk went out, plunging them into darkness. They shuffled quietly out of her office and she closed the door behind her, locking it with a simple spell. They started down the dimly lit hallway of the Ministry.

"I'm going to be leaving soon," Harry said, sliding his hands into his pockets and looking at the ground. She knew how much he enjoyed his job as a Auror, traveling and protecting the wizarding world, but she also knew how much he hated leaving Ginny on her own.

"How long will you be gone for?"

"I'm not sure.. There's a new lead on Narcissa Malfoy, apparently. It wasn't a sighting though, just a tip off from someone, and I have a bad feeling their only motive was for that bounty money Kingsley blabbered about in the Daily Prophet."

Hermione was quite relieved to know that she was not the only one who frowned upon Kingsley's lies in the Daily Prophet.

"What statement do you have in mind for Malfoy?" Harry asked, glancing over at her. She bit her lip, knowing that this was the first time she would be sharing her thoughts about the case to anyone.

"I think I'm going to plead his insanity," she saw Harry's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "It's not like I can prove his innocence, he wasn't exactly working under the Imperius curse or anything. This is the only other option I have, besides losing. And I'm not going to lose," she looked at him pointedly and he smiled a little.

"You know what's best Hermione.. How are you going to get him to agree to it?"

They were silent as they entered the elevator and she bit her lip, taking a calming breath.

"I have no idea."

* * *

"You're a persistent woman Ms. Granger, I'll give you that."

The Auror's name was indeed Steinfield, like Harry had suspected. Gage Steinfield. And he was, like Hermione had feared, fresh out of training.

He stood by her side now, staring up at the large structure that was Azkaban. The familiar sounds of crushing water smashing against the jagged rocks sent a shiver down her spine as she bundled up tighter into her jacket.

She didn't reply to his comment before she started towards the main gates. He trailed after her, glancing periodically over the edges of the cliff.

A guard stood on the other side of the gates, watching them approach with a scowl on his face. He leaned down to the bars when she got closer.

"State your business," he yelled over the harsh breeze.

"I'm Ms. Granger, I'm here to visit my client."

He nodded his head before he turned and disappeared into the dark on the other side. Steinfield shifted next to her, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and mumbling something under his breath about leaded feet and slow guards.

She paid him no mind as the magic around the gates began to shimmer and climb towards the top of the iron bars. The guard came back and opened the gate before allowing them to pass through.

The wind immediately died down, though the bitter cold was replaced by the familiar bone freezing presence of hidden Dementors.

She shivered inside her jacket and glanced about the foyer, catching sight of the guard who had escorted her and Steinfield last time they had come to visit. He caught her eyes and offered a nod of acknowledgement, heading towards them with his hands held professionally behind his back.

"Ms. Granger, here to see Mr. Malfoy again I presume?"

"I owled yesterday about an interview yes," Hermione said, gripping and ungripping her numb fingers inside her gloves.

The guard nodded before he waved a hand for them to follow. He started down the opposite hall that they had gone to the first time she had been there, and she scowled at this.

"I have been appointed as Malfoy's watcher," the guard said, glancing over his shoulder at her. "A personal guard that is in charge of him during visitations and things."

"Does he get many visitors?" Steinfield asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," was all the guard said, turning his eyes back in front of him. They walked in silence and Hermione watched the muscles in the guard's back move. They wandered down a long hallway that had solid, concrete, windowless doors all along either side.

They stopped in front of a door on the right and the guard turned to look at them.

"He is restrained, but for safety precautions, do not get too close to him. Although, he has been quite docile as of late."

Hermione took what he said into consideration while she watched him open the door and usher them inside.

She stepped into the room and immediately a warm gust of air overcame here. She realized that the interrogation rooms must be void of all Dementor presence in order to ensure complete clarity while answering questions. She took in the room before her quickly.

All of the walls were made of concrete and there were no windows in the whole room. A light hung suspended in the air by the ceiling, but it didn't have the blu-ish hue that the other orbs in the holding blocks had. There was one lone table and three chairs, two on one side and one on the other.

In the lone chair on the far side of the room sat Malfoy.

The door behind her closed, and she barely paid Steinfield or the guard any mind when they stepped up to either side of her.

Malfoy's hair was wild and unkempt, sticking up in old angles and she was struck with the thought that he looked like someone who had just rolled out of bed. His skin was still pale, with a gray-ish tint coming to it from lack of sunlight. He wore the typical prison uniform, with the sleeve of his left arm missing.

Hermione knew, from books and Kingsley, that prisoners who carried the Dark Mark were forced to have their left sleeve removed as a way of identification.

She noticed the chains binding his wrists to the arm rests of the chair and she knew that underneath the table his ankles would be chained as well.

Seeing him like this still made her extremely uncomfortable. She just couldn't shake the image she had of him from Hogwarts, lounging back in his seat casually in his expensive robes with a smug look on his face. How far from grace he had fallen.

His eyes darted up to look at her and she took a quick intake of breath. He eyed her carefully, as if assessing her to see if she was a threat or not, before he took in the other two men in the room as well.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, he sat up straight and squared his shoulders, jutting his chin out towards them. She took in the dip of his chin and the exhausted folds under his eyes, resembling the person in his mugshot. His cheeks were high and sharp, and his eyes watched her every move as she walked towards the available chair across from him.

Steinfield sat next to her and the guard stood in a corner by the door, probably staying back in case things got out of hand and he'd need to step in.

She didn't know how she was supposed to start, staring across the table at him while he watched her closely. She wasn't sure if he was even willing to speak to her, but she had to at least try. She had two days to procure some type of new information for the Wizengamot, and it would be so much easier if Malfoy would just cooperate with her.

She shifted in her seat under his gaze, her eyes momentarily, on instinct, darting to his left arm. His shoulder was sharp, like the rest of his bones, jutting out like he were made of stone. The muscles of his arms were almost nonexistent and she was surprised at how skinny he actually was. Her eyebrows furrowed together, a frown forming on her lips without her noticing.

"Are you eating alright?" she immediately winced at her own question. Of course he wasn't eating right, he had been on the run for nearly two years and now he was locked away in Azkaban, which wasn't exactly a positive change.

She heard a snort and her eyes darted to his face, watching his gray eyes roll up to stare at the ceiling in the exasperated way he used to mock her intelligence in the classrooms at Hogwarts. She didn't know why, but this act of annoyance enlightened her immensely. She sat up a bit straighter, watching him with close eyes. Apart from the familiar eye roll and snort, his facial expressions and body language hardly changed. He sat, stiff backed and shoulders straight, but perhaps he was coming out of whatever psychological state he had been in whilst he had been on the run?

She cleared her throat and his eyes snapped down to look at her again, as though startled that she were still in the room with him. She turned her eyes towards the guard, who was watching the whole exchange with close eyes. His wand was clutched in his hand, in case any sort of havoc were to break out. She turned back to look at Malfoy.

"Do you remember what I said when I came to visit you last time?" she tried, starting off easy with the hope of working her way up to some more important questions. Maybe this visit wouldn't be a complete waste after all.

He stared her down, his expression void of any comprehension that he had even heard her, and his lips pressed into a tight line. He seemed to be thinking deeply about something, and Hermione's confidence started to dwindle the longer the silence went on, before she caught the quick dip and lift of his chin in a single curt nod.

He was answering her. Perhaps a bit slowly, and maybe not as responsive as she'd quite like him to be, but he _was_ answering her.

"Great, so you'll be aware then that I have been appointed as your defense lawyer, and that your first heari-" she froze, noticing the furrowed eyebrows of confusion on Malfoy's face. He looked genuinely lost, like she had just tried to explain the complexity of the muggle internet to him. His pale lips hung partially opened, like he wanted to say something but had no idea how to say it.

"What..?" she asked defensively, eyeing him carefully.

He stayed like that for a long moment before he promptly shut his mouth and an indignant look crossed his features. Like he was annoyed at this piece of information or deemed it unfair or unjust. She scowled at him, suddenly feeling that familiar anger towards the school boy she had suffered through Hogwarts with.

"It was me or it was the Dementors Kiss, Malfoy. Your decision." This was a lie, but his superior attitude caused her to act out sometimes she supposed.

He seemed to genuinely think about this, rolling his tongue against his cheek before he clucked it against the roof of his mouth. The sound reverberated off the walls and made her uncomfortable for some odd reason. His expressionless mask slid back onto his face, as though their whole encounter hadn't even happened, but she relaxed knowing that he had come to the conclusion that it would be better to have her as a lawyer than to face a Dementor.

She cleared her throat once more, her eyes chancing a glance at Steinfield, who sat frowning in concentration.

"Right, as I was saying," she continued, turning her eyes back to Malfoy. "Your first hearing will take place on Friday at 3pm. You will be escorted from Azkaban to the Ministry 25 minutes before your hearing, and I'll meet you there."

Malfoy's mouth twitched and Hermione instantly stilled, waiting to see if he would finally speak. The left corner of his lips moved before he suddenly seemed to think better of it and remained silent. She sighed in slight frustration, taking off her gloves and placing them on the table. As cold as it had been outside in the hallway, the room was void of the Dementor's chill and of windows, making it rather warm.

She watched Malfoy's eyes wander towards the gloves and stare at them, his mind moving a million miles a minute behind his gaze. A small part of her was dying of curiosity to know what was running through that blonde head of his, but she decided not to ask.

"Now," she said, readying herself for the worst part. She just had to get it over, like peeling off a band-aid, quick and effective. "Proving your innocence is out of the question. You are not an innocent man, Malfoy." His gaze never moved from the gloves on the table. "But I'm not about to lose this case, so there is one other option. We're going to try and prove your insanity."

A moment ticked by and nothing happened, before suddenly Malfoy's gaze snapped up to look directly at her. Anger flashed behind his eyes and he ground his teeth together, his jaw clenching and unclenching. She knew he wouldn't have been particularly fond of this idea, but there was honestly no other option, and the sooner she got it out in the open, the sooner he could stop being a snob about it and realize that it was his best option.

"By doing this, we can save you from the Dementor's Kiss, and perhaps you could be able to rejoin society, sometime in the future." She neglected to tell him that it would be sometime into the very _distant_ future.

Something switched behind his eyes. She'd be silly to assume that it was something close to hope, but his eyes did shine with some sort of determination. He stopped grinding his teeth together and another blank expression overcame his features while he thought about this.

Again, she wished desperately to be inside of his mind, or she at least wished that he would say something that he was thinking. At least then she'd have something to go off of, instead of his blank looks and many expressions.

Another moment ticked by and then his chin dipped and lifted again, in a single curt nod of either approval, acknowledgment or understanding.

She couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that he seemed adamant about not speaking, but at least he hadn't put up a fight against her statement, considering it was the only option she had come up with since taking his case. She tried to think of some way to get him to speak to her, even if it had nothing to do with his hearing. It unnerved her that he simply sat there in silence, taking everything as it came and never once saying anything about it. In school, he had been prone to back talking and whining when things didn't go his way.

Though she supposed the war had changed a lot of people, in a lot of ways, she had never expected Draco Malfoy to grow up in any way. Perhaps that was what he had done though. Perhaps his two years on the road, away from the fame and glory that came with being a Malfoy, had jostled his head a little.

She couldn't say that she would hate it, if that were the case.

"Is there.. anything you'd like to discuss?" she tried not to sound hopeful.

His eyes left her face and wandered around the room, and for a moment she thought incredulously that he was ignoring her. She kept herself from clenching her hands into fists in her lap, trying to remain calm and patient with him. He did seem a bit slow in responding to her, perhaps this was just something she'd have to cope with.

His eyes stopped at a corner of the room over his left shoulder and he stared at it for a long moment before suddenly his gaze snapped back to look at her. That's when she noticed it.

She could barely see his hand over the edge of the table, and the movement was so subtle that she almost thought that she had imagined it, but upon closer inspection she noticed it. His thumb and forefinger rubbed together in slow circles. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and she looked up to catch his gaze. His eyes never wavered from her and suddenly she knew. He was trying to tell her something.

Or was he? No, no.. it must be just a tick. A nervous habit. But.. he was staring right at her, and he only did it when he knew that she could see it.

"What?" she asked, unintentionally. His eyes darted over to look at the other two men in the room and his fingers froze before he flexed them, his knuckles popping. He rested his hand on the arms of his chair and let his fingers hang loosely again.

He was trying to tell her something.. secretly.

"Ms. Granger,"

Hermione jumped at the sound of the guard's voice and she quickly turned in her seat to look at him. He had stepped away from the wall and was looking at her curiously.

"I think it's time for Malfoy to go back into his cell. It's almost been an hour, and I'm not about to get into trouble for letting him stay out for too long."

Had it already been an hour since she had arrived? She scowled, nodding her head and quickly snatching up her gloves.

"Yes, of course, we'll just be going." She glanced towards Malfoy one last time to find he was watching her again. She slid on her gloves before she stood to her feet, Steinfield following after her.

The guard smiled a little in apology before opening the door to the interrogation room.

"Granger."

Hermione froze, her blood running cold, though she couldn't tell if it was from the freezing temperatures of the hallway or from the voice that sounded off behind her. Steinfield seemed to have stiffened beside her and she saw the guard reach for his wand. She turned quickly, after a moment's pause of shock, and caught eyes with Malfoy again.

He looked like he hadn't even spoken, his shoulders pressed back into his chair, a distant look in his eyes and his lips pressed together into a tight line. She scrutinized him for moment, debating on whether she had imagined it or not, but judging by the other men's reactions she knew she had not.

"Yes?" she asked, trying not to sound surprised or overly excited.

He scowled at her, his brows furrowing in slight concentration, before his lips parted once more.

"What day is it..?" His voice was cracked and broken, and much deeper than she remembered, though not as deep as Ron's. He sounded like a man who hadn't spoken in years. She shifted in astonishment at his question, for though she hadn't known what she expected him to say, she supposed it hadn't been that.

"Oh, it's Wednesday."

He nodded his head slowly before his lips pressed into another tight line. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back and she knew that he was done speaking to her.

She turned, a small feeling of accomplishment and triumph rising in her chest, before she exited the room out into the hallway.

Only two days left until her hearing with the Wizengamot, and she knew exactly what she was going to say.


	8. Strategic Business Moves

_**Author's Note:**_

 **Malfoy's first hearing! I realize this chapter is shorter than the others, but it was really fun to write and I don't think it needs anything added to it. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. Any characters, items, places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

It took her a moment to realize that she hadn't seen him like this in over two years. Looking at the man in front of her threw her back to her days at Hogwarts, and it was hard to believe that he was the same person she had talked to in a small interrogation room just a few days ago.

Malfoy stood, straight backed with rigid shoulders, in the middle of the court room, apparently having refused to sit down just moments before Hermione had arrived. He wore the black suit she remembered from her dream, and his blonde locks had been slicked back in the usual fashion that he had worn it during school.

He looked as well put together as she had ever seen him, even if he was a bit thin and a little too pale.

This is how she had always pictured him. This image of him before her is what constantly prevented her from seeing the image that everyone else seemed to see. This was the reason why she refused to accept that he was anything than who she had always known him to be.

His gray eyes darted to the door when she entered and she had to coerce herself not to falter under the intensity of his gaze. An air of anxiety engulfed him, and she wondered how nervous he actually was behind that expressionless mask of his.

The guard from Azkaban who has become Malfoy's watcher stood off to the side, his usual attire replaced by that of a security guard probably to lessen the tension for the Wizengamot. They liked to pretend things weren't as serious as they were. He smiled in acknowledgment towards her and nodded his head and she returned the gesture. It was good to have a friendly face amidst all this chaos. She only wished Harry were here, or even-

She stopped herself short with a quick shake of her head. No, she couldn't afford to be distracted now.

She forced herself to look at Malfoy and cleared her throat in the silence of the room.

"Are you ready?"

Malfoy stared at her, his gray eyes distant and a look of overwhelming boredom on his face. For a moment she thought he was going to ignore her, and her blood began to simmer like it had all those years ago back at Hogwarts, before finally she saw his curt nod. She sighed heavily, knowing that was the best she was going to get out of him.

"Right," she murmured, trying to hide her agitation. "The Wizengamot is going to ask for our plea, and we're going to plead guilty. After that, it's just about proving your insanity."

She watched his shoulders tense at the word and his pale lips pressed into a thin line. The vacancy in his stare vanished and he looked at her with such hatred that she was shocked he didn't kill her with his gaze alone.

"It's the only way Malfoy, we've already discussed-"

"Ms. Granger,"

Hermione turned quickly to look over her shoulder. Kingsley entered the room, looking tired and worn as usual, though he smiled at her reassuringly.

"The Wizengamot will be here shortly, are you ready?"

She knew Kingsley was trying his hardest not to take the opportunity to look Malfoy over and assess just who it was that she was dealing with.

"Yes, we're ready," she said, nodding her head as if to confirm it.

Kingsley stayed for only a moment before he was turning and leaving again, claiming that the Wizengamot would be arriving any time now. As his billowing robes disappeared out the door, Hermione glanced back at Malfoy.

He unbuttoned the outercoat of his suit and sat himself down in the chair designated for him. He intertwined his fingers and rested them in his lap, leaning back casually as though he were not about to go on trial with the Wizengamot.

She couldn't help the small twinge of something inside of her. Perhaps it was respect, though that word hardly fit when describing Draco Malfoy. Whatever it was, she couldn't help but admire his ever lasting control over himself and his emotions.

A door on the far side of the room opened and the first few wizards of the Wizengamot stepped out into the bleachers surrounding the room, murmuring to themselves and taking sidelong glances at Malfoy. Hermione began to feel nervous. She bit her lip and hurriedly opened her file in an attempt to appear busy.

This was it, her big chance to keep Malfoy's case open and impress the Wizengamot. She would have to play this out carefully.

"All stand for Prime Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and his honorable presence, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Aldermaston."

Malfoy remained glued to his seat when the rest of the Wizengamot stood, and Kingsley and Aldermaston entered the room.

Aldermaston took his seat with Kingsley beside him and the rest of the Wizengamot took their seats after a moment. Aldermaston was an older gentleman with graying hair and a few wrinkles threatening to over take his once handsome face. He had a 'grandfather' vibe to him, with a stern exterior and a set line of his mouth.

"Session is now in order," Aldermaston said, his voice echoing throughout the oval room. "The Wizengamot will be assessing the crimes and nature of Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy, which are as follows." He moved a few sheets of paper around on the podium in front of him before clearing his throat and placing a pair of spectacles over his green eyes. "That he knowingly, and with full conviction, broke a total of 37 rules at Hogwarts School, performed dark magic in an attempt to illegally repair a vanishing cabinet, allowed 6 well known and dangerous death eaters into the school, threatened the lives of every student at Hogwarts, assisted in the murder of Headmaster Albus Dumbldore, enlisted as a follower for Voldemort, allowed his home to be used to refuge numerous wanted criminals, and fled the authorities for two years."

A low murmur of whispers echoed throughout the room and Hermione chanced a glance at Malfoy. His jaw was stiff and he looked like he was determined to grind his teeth down to his gums. His knuckles were white as he pressed his hands together tight in his lap and he looked even paler than before if it were possible.

"Silence, silence," Aldermaston called out, setting the papers back down onto the podium before glancing down at the two before him. "How do you plead?"

Hermione took a breath, shifting on the spot and gathering herself up.

"We plead guilty, your honor."

Aldermaston eyed her carefully, as if waiting to see if she'll change her mind, before he nodded his head.

"Very well," he said, writing something down. "The consequences for such crimes is the Dementor's Kiss and life in Azkaban, do you understand these consequences?"

"We do, your honor."

"And does Mr. Malfoy wish to make a plea bargain?"

Here it was. She glanced over at Malfoy, and was startled to find that he was already watching her. She caught eyes with him and she knew by the look on his face that he was biting his tongue against something. She waited a moment to see if he would speak before she turned her gaze back to Aldermaston.

"Yes, your honor."

Aldermaston waved a hand, leaning back in his chair. "Please make it then," he said solemnly.

"We would like to plead guilty on all accounts, and secure a plea bargain under the McNaughton rule of 1843, with insanity and the inability to know right from wrong."

Malfoy froze, his gaze dropping quick to look at his dress shoes. A loud burst of voices came from the Wizengamot, a sea of wide-eyed, shocked witches and wizards.

Aldermaston seemed surprised and Kingsley pursed his lips together in worry. After a moment of letting the chaos commence, Aldermaston raised his hand. "Silence, silence," he ordered loudly, never taking his eyes off of the young witch and wizard before him.

He sat up in his chair, placing his folded hands on the podium and looking absolutely intrigued.

"And what are your circumstances for recovery?"

"Foster care and psychiatric therapy with hopes of mental rehabilitation," She could feel it. That pride inside herself when she caught the suddenly approving look of Kingsley when it finally dawned on him what it was she was doing.

Aldermaston seemed to contemplate this, his eyes sliding over to the blonde haired boy who sat beside her. She wished momentarily that Azkaban hadn't allowed him to clean up, to better portray the insanity she was trying to fight for, but it was easier to think of mental rehabilitation in a man who looked otherwise fit for society.

After a long, pregnant pause, Aldermaston wrote something down and nodded his head.

"Very well, the Wizengamot will reconvene in two weeks on Thursday to discuss the details and severity of the mental state of Mr. Malfoy. He will be placed back in Azkaban and safe from punishment until further notice."

And just like that, it was over.

Hermione caught the nod from Kingsley as the man followed Aldermaston out of the room and she knew she should wait for him.

Movement out of the corner of her eye made her look at the guard from Azkaban as he moved towards where Malfoy sat. He had yet to stand, or move at all, and seemed to be lost in a deep thought. By the time the guard got to him, he moved to his feet and his eyes shot over to look at her.

"We did it," she barely got the words out before he was moving past her and heading for the door with the guard following close behind him.

She would've been more furious if she hadn't spotted the anxious look on Malfoy's face. She supposed she could understand that this trial was going to be a lot harder on him than it was going to be on her, and that claiming insanity wasn't exactly a "we did it" moment.

She watched his lithe form disappear out the door and sighed, closing her eyes and taking a breath. She had to think about the positives. She had gotten the Wizengamot essentially where she wanted them, now all she had to do was come up with evidence to support her theory. Having known Malfoy all through out Hogwarts was going to help her with that process, at least.

"Ms. Granger,"

Hermione opened her eyes and glanced about the room, catching sight of Kingsley quickly. She almost didn't notice the young man next to him.

"I'm very impressed with you. I was wondering how you were going to pull him out of this, and you sure took everybody by surprise, bargaining his sanity like that."

"It was a strategic business move."

She watched the smile flash across Kingsley's face as she rolled his words back to him, before he reached a hand over to place it on the young man's shoulder beside him. Hermione's eyes moved to evaluate the man fully for the first time and she nearly kneeled over in shock.

"Zabini?"

Blaise glanced at Kingsley briefly before turning his gaze back to her, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

"Granger."

Her gaze whipped back over to Kingsley, trying to hide her astonishment though it was probably clear on her face.

"This is the wizard from the law school? The one that-" _knows much about the Malfoy family case_. Her lips formed a small 'o' when she began realize just what Kingsley had meant, and her eyes quickly darted back over to Blaise. She eyed him suspiciously, knowing exactly who he was and what side he had fought on during the war.

She didn't understand how he had gotten off free of any charges, something to do with his family she knew, but how was she supposed to trust him? How did Kingsley trust him now?

"I see you know each other," Kingsley said, glancing between the two quickly before noticing the tension in the air and rushing on. "Mr. Zabini has been top of his class for years, he's got a sharp mind and he was once close friends with Mr. Malfoy. It'd be beneficial to have him on your team, Ms. Granger, don't you think?."

"You can't have a team made up of one person," Blaise chimed in, his face cool and his gaze unwavering, and she couldn't tell if he was genuine or mocking her.

She pursed her lips together, trying to think of something to say but nothing came to mind. Instead she simply nodded her head.

"I'll see to it that the Wizengamot is made aware of the addition to your case, but for now, if you'll excuse me," Kingsley made his escape quick, leaving the two former Hogwarts students behind to fend for themselves.

They stared each other down for a long moment, neither of them saying a word. Hermione was sure that she was going to get him to speak first, but her curiosity was too strong for her own good.

"Why?"

Blaise lifted his chin defiantly, his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"The job opportunities after being on this case should we win, and I do intend on winning, are too great to miss."

"And it has nothing to do with the fact that it's _Malfoy's_ case?" she raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. She knew she might be acting a bit like a young student, but she couldn't just let any ex-death eater and Slytherin onto her case.

Blaise pursed his lips together for a moment, eyeing her as though sizing up a challenging opponent.

"Just because I may have spoken with Malfoy when we were young does not mean that I would give up my career to see him out of Azkaban. I know what he's done, Granger."

His bluntness shocked her for a moment.

"As it were, you're pleading insanity, Granger, and I don't especially find you to be sly enough to pull that off on your own."

"And you are?" she asked, trying to keep the offended tone from her voice, and the panic down that he might be able to see right through her insanity plea.

"I was in Slytherin, after all."

She stayed silent for a long moment, reluctant to show him any sort of weakness. After a long pause, Blaise sighed heavily with impatience.

"Look Granger, I want this opportunity and you need my help. I know more about the Malfoy family than anyone, I've spent summers at their home and stayed there when Voldemort was there. I know everything you need."

She hated to admit it, but she knew he was right. She did need his help, and with his vast knowledge on everything she didn't know, he practically filled in all the missing gaps for her. She hesitated a moment, watching his impatience mount.

"Just think of it as a strategic business move."

She finally sighed and dropped her hands to her side.

"Fine, but if I hear any sort of comment such as mudblood I-"

"I have never once called you that, and you know it."

Hermione stilled for a moment, thinking back to all those years ago. She could remember when Malfoy first flung that nasty word at her, and all the moments after, and she supposed that she had never heard that word slip past Blaise's lips. But there was a first time for everything, she assumed.

"No, I suppose you haven't."

He lifted his hand towards her and she sighed before shaking it.

"We'll meet for coffee then, to discuss what you have so far."

She bit her lip at this, knowing that all she really had was what she had presented to the Wizengamot that day. She nodded her head anyway, watching as he turned and started out of the room.

When she was finally alone, she raised a hand to her temple and pressed her fingertips against a growing headache.

She had never pictured in her life that she would be defending an ex-death eater with the help of another ex-death eater. It was the war all over again, raging inside her skull.


	9. Matters Over Coffee

_**Author's Note:**_

 **Hey everyone! No, you're not hallucinating! It's another chapter of His Mental State! I know I have been away forever and I am very excited to upload this for all of you who are following along and have been waiting for another chapter.**

 **Just a small thing to mention; there is an Easter Egg find within this chapter :) It's small, and probably not that interesting, but if you do happen to find it don't spoil it for others! Write "uniting" in the review box! This is more for my fun probably than it is for yours :)**

 **Don't forget to leave a review telling me what you thought! I love hearing from you all!**

 **And now I have kept you long enough! Enjoy!  
**

 **WARNING:  
**

 **This chapter contains brief Profanity**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. Any characters, items places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

It was the most bizarre thing she had ever experienced. And she had been experiencing a lot of bizarre things lately. But she had to say that sitting in that muggle café with a large cappuccino and watching Blaise Zabini walk in, dressed in a fine cloak, and knowing that he was there to see her really topped all of her other bizarre experiences.

She watched from the other side of the room as his dark eyes scanned the area, taking in everything around him, and she wondered vaguely to herself if this was the first time he had ever set foot in any sort of muggle establishment.

He unclasped the clip of his cloak and let the fabric fall from his shoulders, revealing a white button down and dark blue sweater vest, before he hung it up on a hook. His eyes locked with hers in that moment, and he pulled up his sleeves before he started maneuvering his way towards her.

She didn't know whether she should drop his gaze, and she fought the urge to shift about uncomfortably as he approached. Finally, he reached her tiny, two-person booth and sat himself down opposite her.

He laid a file on the table in front of him and looked around for some type of waitress. Hermione hadn't even noticed he had been carrying the file until he had set it down in front of her, almost identical to the one she had in front of herself.

He must have caught the attention of some waitress, for he began to wave someone over. Hermione lifted her cappuccino to her lips as a muggle woman with wavy red hair stopped by them.

"What can I get for you hun?" she asked, pulling out her notepad and glancing between the two of them. While Blaise seemed to have dressed up for this occasion, Hermione hadn't really thought to do so, and so was sat in her old faded jeans and a sweater with her bushy hair pulled back into its usual ponytail.

"Large coffee, two sugars one cream," Blaise spoke pointedly and with a sense of authority, and the waitress nodded her head as she jotted down his order before she turned and walked away from the table.

Then came the uncomfortable silence.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Hermione listened to the constant babble of the muggles seated around them, enjoying their Sunday and chatting animatedly, though she couldn't decipher what anyone was saying as it all became a dull hum in her ears.

She knew that Blaise was looking at her, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to look back at him. There was a small nagging thought in the back of her head that she was alone, in the muggle community where nobody knew her, with an ex-Death Eater, again whom nobody knew, and Hermione had so wittily not told anybody that she was going to meet him today.

If anything were to happen to her- if he were to do anything to her- it could be days before anyone found out.

The waitress came over again with a large cup of coffee and placed it down in front of Blaise. This caused Hermione to glance at him and she took the opportunity while his eyes were off of her to look at him.

He was clean and pristine, like any other working person she had seen. He thanked the waitress and pulled the coffee towards him before taking a slow sip.

Perhaps she was being paranoid. Perhaps she was still stuck in the war, though for the life of her she couldn't understand why she couldn't just get over it. Normal people don't just go around daydreaming about others kidnapping and harming them. Normal people don't sit there and think about the best ways to escape these imagined scenarios.

She desperately needed sleep. Though the success of Malfoy's hearing had given her a small sense of relief, and a bit of a confidence nudge, her nights were now plagued with how she was going to deal with Ron, and how she was going to survive working with Blaise.

Yes, she desperately needed a good nights rest.

"So," Blaise was the first to speak, and his voice startled her out of her daydream. "What do you have so far?"

She blinked at him, feeling her cheeks flushing a bit before she sat up a bit straighter. She had been so caught up in thinking about the fact that Blaise was going to try and kill her that she hadn't even thought about the real problem at hand; the fact that he assumed that she had this big plan behind her statement at the Ministry when in fact, she was literally just riding this case along and trying to keep up with everything along the way.

"Well," she started, clearing her throat as she pulled Malfoy's file a bit closer to her, though she refused to open it and be subjected to his mug shot again. "Um, well I decided that pleading his insanity would be better than trying to prove his innocence, because, well, you know what he was like during school I suppose, and you know what he did during the war. A lot of people are really angry with him and would do anything to see him sent away to Azkaban with the Dementor's Kiss, so I thought that by pleading his insanity would give us a better-"

"Granger?"

He interrupted her and forced her to stop rambling mid-sentence. She blinked at him when she noticed he was raising an eyebrow towards her.

"You don't have anything else do you?"

She felt offended, though for the life of her she didn't know why. He was completely right. She had nothing else to go on, nothing else to push towards. She had given her idea and now she kept repeating it in her head, hoping some new information would come along that would push her case, because as of right now she had nothing.

Still, admitting to anyone, especially someone like Blaise, that she hadn't the slightest idea on what she was doing was practically unacceptable. She shifted in her seat, racking her brain for something- anything.

After a long moment of silence, Blaise nodded his head slowly to himself before he pushed his own file towards her.

"Maybe you would want to look at this, then," he paused for a moment before continuing, "In case you don't indeed have any way of moving forward."

She stared at the folder in front of her, debating on what could lay within the pages of it. It looked a bit thinner than Malfoy's case file, which she had grow accustomed to taking everywhere with her, but she supposed anything was better than nothing at all.

She reached for the file, opening it and glancing at the contents inside.

Inside was a single sheet of paper, with a letter written on parchment magically taped to it. She didn't know how, but she recognized Malfoy's handwriting immediately.

Before she allowed herself the opportunity to read it, she looked up at Blaise and asked, "What is this?"

He moved his coffee aside before leaning his elbows onto the table and shifting closer towards her. She noticed the bulky, silver watch that sat on his wrist and thought for an incredulous second that it was a muggle watch, before she realized that it had no numbers or hands on it at all.

"This letter was sent to Pansy Parkinson, the last day of the summer before our sixth year, around the time when Malfoy was given his mission from Voldemort to fix the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirements."

Hermione dragged her gaze away from the watch and caught eyes with Blaise. "Pansy Parkinson, his girlfriend?"

Blaise shook his head at this, leaning back in his seat once more and clasping his hands together on the table top in front of him.

"They never dated. Pansy and Draco had known each other since they were little, and their families were extremely close. Draco always had a sort of crush on her, and I suppose when she got lonely it was easy to gush over him and make his feelings for her stronger, but she never had any intentions of actually staying with him."

Hermione scowled, wondering why any of that was necessary to say, though she would admit that it did have her a bit curious. Here sat a man who had known Malfoy since they were 11 years old. He had all the answers she had ever wanted to know about the blonde Slytherin, locked away inside his head.

"Oh," she said, not knowing what else to say. She chanced another glance at the letter, noting Malfoy's immaculate handwriting and the way he swooped his letters in the most extravagant and obnoxious fashion. "How did you get this?"

"I went to visit Pansy around the time that, that stupid article ran in the Daily Prophet about Malfoy's capture. I knew she wouldn't take it well. She's married and has a kid on the way, but she had cared about Malfoy at some point or another."

The thought of anyone deeply caring or feeling sympathetic towards Malfoy was foreign territory for Hermione, but she decided to keep that bit of information to herself. For now, Blaise seems forth coming and willingly to help, and she wasn't about to spoil that by insulting him or any of his former classmates.

"And she just gave it to you? Why? You weren't on this case yet," she asked suspiciously.

"She didn't just give it to me," he said, raising an impatient eyebrow at her. "I was talking about the case and how one of my professors at school had brought it up, and how I would want to join if there was any way that I could. She gave me the letter in hopes that it would be useful to me."

That didn't set right with Hermione, but she decided again to keep her opinion to herself.

"Should I… read it now?" she asked, unable to keep her growing curiosity back, but Blaise's abrupt movement to his feet startled her attention away from the letter.

"Keep it, study it or whatever you do. I've already read it a million times and have a copy of it back at my apartment. I can't stay any longer, but we should meet again once you have read it over. I left my address on the back, owl me a time and place when you're ready."

She blinked at him as he went to turn away from her before he suddenly looked back at her. His face was extremely serious as he said, "and Granger, you've got to figure out what it is you want to do next. Otherwise I can't help you. I can't just give you all the information."

Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion as she watched him turn and disappear towards the counter. He paid the waitress before grabbing his cloak off the hook and throwing it over his shoulders, disappearing from the café.

His abrupt departure left her a little shaken, but she turned her attention towards the letter that now sat in front of her. She licked her lips with anticipation, taking a sip of her now slightly cooled cappuccino before she pulled the letter closer to her and began to read.

* * *

 _Dear Pansy,_

 _Do not ask me about my family. Not everything that happens here you need to know, especially things that involve my mother. Try to understand that my parents are not of your concern, and that you should be focusing on your own. To keep them at a distance is to endanger yourself. Help them in preparing for what is to come, that is what I have been doing all along for my father._

 _He says that when all of this is over, our past misfortunes will be forgiven and we will be in a place of power once more. Will that actually happen, I do not know, but I can't afford to sit around and doubt everything, I'd go mad. Kill some time before Hogwarts and read that book I got you. You might find it interesting._

 _Just trust me._

 _Draco_

Hermione read the letter over and over again, now seated in her pajamas on her couch in her apartment with a glass of red wine. The letter was… disappointing, to say the least. Besides assuming that the Malfoy's, and the Parkinson's by the looks of it, were having hard times bestowed upon them by Voldemort, and that Pansy was trying to be nosy into Malfoy's business, and having a small hint of a confession that he had been doing Death Eater errands for his family, the letter contained nothing.

No information that could be helpful towards her case.

She couldn't understand why Blaise had thought that this useless, two paragraph letter would have been helpful. Didn't he go to law school? Wasn't he supposed to be extremely smart at figuring things out? Was he playing with her?

This thought boiled her blood, and she became angry at the idea that he was having his fun at her expense. Filthy Slytherin.

She set her glass of wine down and stood to her feet, growing angrier by the minute before she gripped the letter in her hands and crumpled it up into a wad, chucking it to the other side of the room, where it uselessly thumped off the wall and then lay still on the floor.

Combing a hand through her hair, she willed herself to calm down. She would figure something out, she always did. She was the brains of the Golden Trio, after all, there wasn't anything that she couldn't handle.

"You shouldn't ruin other people's possessions Granger,"

Hermione yelped, turning around with shocked wide eyes. Her heart stopped dead in her chest and it became increasingly difficult to breath. There was no way that he was there, in her apartment. He was still in Azkaban, Aldermaston said so himself that he would be kept their until their next hearing.

And yet, there he stood, dressed in his black suit with his hair styled back and his cold eyes looking at her. She stood a few steps back, knocking the back of her knee into the coffee table and spilling her glass of wine. It pooled out onto the table before slowly dripping down onto the floor.

"What.. are you-" She tried to asked, but she was short of breath.

"Doing here?" Malfoy finished, raising an eyebrow at her. He took a step towards her and the action suddenly threw her guard up. Her wand was in her bedroom on her nightstand. If she could just get by him, she would have the upper hand with her wand.

"I told you Granger, you're going to help me," His tone was threatening, and he took another step towards her. She jiggled on her feet, eyeing the area around her. "You're going to get me out of this mess."

Without a second thought, she lunged for the couch, scrambling to get over the back. She had just jumped up when Malfoy's long leg came out and kicked the couch back, throwing off her aim. Her foot landed on the back of the couch and she toppled over it, landing roughly on her side. She could feel the bruise begin to blossom on her hip.

He rounded the side of the couch and looked down at her, a sneer of disgust engulfing his face.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"I always have," she spat back, unable to help herself as she forced herself to her feet. He stood directly in front of her, and before she could jump back in surprise, his hand grabbed her neck and she was pinned against the wall behind her. His eyes were cold and empty, save for a slight glint of hysteria.

"You're going to get me out of here," he seethed through clenched teeth, forcing his fingers deeper into her throat. Tears began to dot at her eyes as she clawed at his fingers, but no amount of scratching made him loosen his grip.

"You're going to convince them to let me go," he continued on despite her struggling, leaning down so his nose almost grazed the tip of hers. She stilled instantly, her eyes wide at the unfamiliar close proximity.

"Or I'm going to fucking kill you."

Hermione lurched upright, gasping for air in hurried breaths. The apartment was dark around her and she pivoted on her spot on the couch, glancing into the kitchen and the dark doorframe of her bedroom. She stilled, listening for the sound of him lurking about. Her forehead was covered in sweat and her heart was pounding in her chest.

She placed a foot on the floor and lurched back when she felt something touch it. Looking down at the ground, she saw Malfoy's letter laying face down, smooth and wrinkle free.

Her eyebrows pulled together before she noticed the upright glass of red wine on the coffee table.

Sighing heavily and pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, she allowed herself a moment of relief when she realized that it was only a dream.

She leaned down and picked up the letter, squinting in the dark and noticing the scrawled address on the back. Blaise's address.

She set the letter on the table with her case file and her wine before she slowly pulled herself to her feet. She started towards her bedroom, turning on the light and glancing inside before going in. She reached for her wand and touched it, feeling herself mentally relax now that she was confident she was alone and armed.

Exhausted and knowing that tomorrow would bring a long day of work, she pulled back the sheets and crawled into bed, passing out instantly with the light still on.


	10. Breaking The Silence

**_Author's Note:_**

 **Hey everyone! Another chapter! I feel bad for having left this fanfic alone for so long, and now that I've started writing it again I can't stop! I hope you guys enjoy.**

 **Show some love in the review section by leaving some titles and authors of your favorite Dramione fanfics. I'd love to read some of them!**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. All characters, items, placed and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

He was staring her down from across the room. His eyes seemed brighter than she had remembered them, but perhaps it was simply the change in scenery. Kingsley had ordered to move Malfoy's interrogations from Azkaban to a room on the bottom floor of the Ministry. It was an all white room, lit up with bright fluorescent lights, and it was the first time Hermione was alone with him.

He was bound to his chair in the usual fashion, with his ankles strapped tightly in and his wrists stuck to the armrests. He wore his prisoner's uniform, with the left sleeve torn away.

A part of her desperately wanted to glimpse at the mark that she knew sat burned onto his forearm, a permanent reminder of who he was and what he had done, and how his life had spiraled down to that moment. It must have been some fall from grace, to wind up a prisoner of Azkaban.

Her own fingers absentmindedly moved towards her arm, poking at the scar that sat out of sight under the sleeve of her white blouse.

They sat in silence for a long time, neither one of them saying a word. He stared at her, his head slightly cocked to the side as though he were extremely tired or bored and in danger of falling asleep. She saw his eyes dart to her arm when her fingers touched it and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

She wished to break the silence that had fallen upon them as soon as she had entered the room, but she had no idea what to say. She was hoping that the silence would get to him, and that he would finally speak to her. Away from the dark and ominous halls of Azkaban, he seemed lighter in a way. His muscles were more relaxed and he leaned back in his chair as though he were in a classroom at Hogwarts.

On the table between them sat his case file and the folder that Blaise had given to her. She still couldn't understand why he had thought the letter would have been useful to her, it still frustrated her that she could find nothing of importance within its contents.

He moved in his chair, and the sound startled her. She watched as he leaned on his elbows and moved forward, his eyes squinting as though he were reading through a particularly difficult text. It happened so suddenly that she almost didn't know how to react.

"You've been dreaming about me,"

His voice was foreign to her. She had heard it for so many years in the halls of Hogwarts, saying mean things to her and her friends, or sucking up to some professor in one of their many classes together. But she had gone so long without hearing him speak, and his voice had changed to the point where it almost made her uncomfortable.

After getting over the shock that he had spoken to her, she blinked incredulously at his accusation.

"Excuse me?" she said, but she barely got it out before he was speaking again.

"You've been dreaming about me, haven't you Granger?"

Her blood seemed to run cold within her veins, and she tried to keep her face neutral but she knew that he knew. He leaned back in his seat again, nodding his head in the smallest of gestures, and his eyes seemed to gloss over in thought.

His hair seemed to glow in the fluorescent lights, so much that it almost hurt to look at it.

"What makes you say that I have?" she asked, trying to keep her composure. But he didn't answer her, staring off into some distant place that no one else could get to. She quickly realized that her chance to talk to him was disappearing, and she opened her case file in a hurry, removing the small mug shot and sliding it across the table towards him.

For a moment it seemed like he was going to ignore her, but she guessed that his curiosity got the better of him as he turned his eyes towards the little picture and leaned forward in his seat again.

"That's the picture they used of you when the Daily Prophet told everyone that you had been captured."

"Brilliant," he said, without any sort of tone infliction in his voice at all. He studied himself, his gray eyes flickering about the picture in an attempt to take in all of the details. "I look mad."

"That's the point," she winced after she had spoken those words, and his eyes flashed up to look at her. He looked absolutely pissed and she reached across the table to snatch the picture back.

Malfoy leaned back in his chair again, sucking on the inside of his cheek in concentration before he said, rather harshly, "Why you?"

She ignored him, clipping the picture back into the folder and closing it. She had wanted him to talk at first, but now she was beginning to regret her wish.

"Why did it have to be you?" he asked again, eyeing the top of her head.

"I thought the same thing when they gave me the case," she answered back, lifting her eyes to meet his.

"I don't want you as my lawyer," he said blatantly, and his hands gripped the armrests so tight that his knuckles looked like bones. "I don't want your help."

"Then whose do you want?" she snapped, glaring at him.

"Someone I know, someone I choose,"

"Anyone else would have sent you to the Dementor's Kiss in a heartbeat Malfoy."

His jaw clenched tightly and he watched her again, calculating something behind his eyes. She knew, for some heart sinking reason, that he was desperately trying to come up with someone who would care enough to take her place. She wondered briefly what it would feel like to know that no one cared enough or was willing enough to help him.

"Blaise is on my team," she said, not knowing why the words tumbled out of her mouth.

The sneering look on Malfoy's face slowly began to vanish, until she was left with nothing but that emotionless mask that she had grown so accustomed to seeing on his face.

"Blaise?" Malfoy asked quietly, eyeing her suspiciously, as though she were lying to him.

"Yes. He was added to my team after your hearing. He's given me some information-" She reached for the folder that Blaise had given her, but Malfoy interrupted her quickly.

"Where is he then?"

She blinked at him for a moment, not realizing that the possibility of bringing Blaise would have been entirely possible, and maybe even beneficial.

"He," she paused for a moment, trying to come up with what to say. "He was too busy to come today."

"Too busy?" Malfoy asked, and his voice hardened instantly. His muscles stiffened and he turned his head away to look at anything other than her. When he realized that there was nothing else to look at, her turned back to her and clenched his teeth tight together.

"Yes," Hermione reached for Blaise's folder and opened it, revealing the letter inside. "But he gave me this. He said it was from Pansy."

The use of Blaise and Pansy's names seemed to knock him down and momentarily distract him from the fact that he was being interrogated by Hermione Granger.

"Pansy?" he asked, and his voice was soft, almost child-like.

"It's a letter from you, Malfoy."

He blinked and for a long time he stared at the folder, once again lost in his far away place. He shifted in his seat and Hermione noticed his fingers moving. He rubbed his thumb along the pad of his pointer finger and she quickly looked up at him to find that he was staring at her.

"What, what is that Malfoy?" she asked, growing impatient with him. He stilled his fingers and glanced behind him, at the wall that Hermione knew was transparent on one side.

He turned back to look at her and shook his head slightly, rubbing his fingers again.

She knew it. She knew he had been trying to tell her something. She quickly pulled out a paper from his file and flipped it over, but he was shaking his head again.

"Don't." he said roughly, and the coarseness of his voice startled her. She looked at him in disbelief. He shook his head again and then looked down at his own hand.

She was anxious, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and also impatient and annoyed. Why couldn't he just tell her? What else could he possibly tell her that would get him into more trouble? He was already in deep enough to be sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss, any sort of information would only help him in the long run.

"Malfoy," she said, taking a breath and trying to calm herself, "if there is something you want to tell me, then you have to-"

A loud clang echoed through the room when he tried to stand and was forced back down by the chains holding him in place. Hermione lunged to her feet, whipping out her wand and pointing it towards him on reflex. He sneered at her, as though he were more annoyed with her not understanding him than he was.

He lunged again, and she took a hurried step back, even though she knew in the back of her head that there was no way he would be able to get out of his binds.

"Malfoy, calm down or-"

The door to the interrogation room swung open and Malfoy's keeper from the prisoner, who Hermione had learned was called Jackson, and Steinfield came rushing in, wands raised.

"Alright Malfoy, interrogations over," Jackson said, grabbing for the blonde's bindings and beginning to unhook them from the chair. Hermione lowered her wand when Steinfield glanced at her.

"Are you alright Ms. Granger?" he asked.

"I'm fine Steinfield," she said, and just as the words left her mouth, Malfoy lunged from the chair and toppled over the table. The case file and letter flew from the table, scattering along the ground. Steinfield jerked out of the way to avoid the collision and Jackson reached for Malfoy, just as his finger snagged Hermione's sleeve.

She felt it so hard that it gave her a headache; a tugging inside her brain, like her mind was being poked and prodded. She looked into Malfoy's eyes and her stomach dropped when she realized that he was inside her mind.

The interrogation room disappeared and she could see Ron standing in front of her, telling her to drop the case, and then he was kissing her, and the he was in her room, and then she was alone the next morning. She saw Harry in his living room, with Ginny snuggled up on his lap with a cup of hot chocolate, laughing about something or another. She saw Kingsley handing her Malfoy's file, and she remembered the overwhelming feeling of disgust. And something else.

It was just a hint of a memory, something so quick that she almost didn't have time to notice what it was.

And just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. The bright lights of the interrogation room came back and she saw Malfoy lying on the ground with Jackson pinning him down, pulling his arms behind his back and binding them together. Steinfield took Hermione's elbow and pulled her away, and she was sure that he was asking if she was alright, but almost couldn't hear him.

She stared down at Malfoy while Jackson yanked him to his feet, and his eyes locked onto hers again. He lunged again, his mouth yelling something that she couldn't make out and suddenly he was gone, with Jackson pulling him out of the room.

Steinfield rushed after them, his wand at the ready, and Hermione stood there with her ears ringing.

Malfoy had just been inside her mind. Inside her crowded head. He had probed at things that she had been trying not to think of. She had never felt so cramped inside such a small space, and now that he was gone her head felt oddly empty.

But in that last moment he had dragged something out. He had thrown something into her face, something that he had been desperately searching for. She didn't even know if he had stopped long enough to look at all the other memories he had pushed aside.

Shaking and trying to regain her composure, she walked towards the fallen pieces of paper and being to put them back into their folders. The whole time she could see in her mind the image that he had grabbed.

At the Malfoy Manor, when that awful aunt of his had carved into her skin, he forced her to focus on someone in the background. The tall, beautiful figure of Narcissa Malfoy.

Hermione closed the folders and clutched them in her fingers, standing to her feet and looking towards the empty doorway.

Malfoy was frantic to see if his mother was still alive, and since he was looking to see if Hermione had interrogated her as well, that meant that she was still alive. She was still on the run. She was still out there.

And Harry's team was out looking for her.


	11. Momentarily Halted

**_Author's Note:_**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. All characters, items, placed and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

"A higher up coming down into the basement? A little unsafe for you down here isn't it Ms. Granger?"

Hermione tried to ignore Hobbs as she scanned the long row of heavy boxes stacked up and organized onto metal shelves. The records of all of the court cases and information on every witch and wizard registered in the wizarding world could be found in the basement of the Ministry. Hobbs was the overseer of the basement; a bitter man who found joy in taunting whoever came down into his sanctuary. Today, that unfortunate soul happened to be her.

She sighed and rubbed her head at his taunt, trying hard to keep her emotions in check. She couldn't afford to lose her temper, especially not now. Malfoy's actions during their last interrogation have been echoing inside her head for the better part of the past two days, and she had been unable to sleep; having been plagued with nightmares.

"Something you're looking for Ms. Granger?" Hobbs said, waddling over to investigate what was taking her so long.

Hermione jumped back to reality, shaking her head. "No, I can manage on my own thank you,"

Hobbs snorted off in the distance and she could imagine him rolling his eyes at her. "What is it with you higher ups, thinking you're so much better than us?"

She tried to ignore him while scanning the shelves, but she was becoming more and more frustrated when she was unable to find what she was looking for. She turned on Hobbs, placing her hands on her hips and trying to look intimidating. Down in the dark basement with a man who was twice her size however, made her much less intimidating than she wanted to be.

"Narcissa Malfoy's box," she said pointedly, trying for some authority.

Hobb's face lit up in interest and a smirk crawled onto his wrinkly face. "Oh? Narcissa Malfoy you say?" He looked delightfully intrigued and Hermione wished she had never said anything.

"Her box isn't here," she said, waving a dismissive hand towards the shelf labeled 'M.'

Hobb's eyes followed her hand gesture, as though examining the shelf himself before he nodded his head in amusement. "No, it wouldn't be. You higher ups came down here a few years ago and swept up all the boxes for the people who were caught up in that Death Eater business." He shook his head as he waddled over to his over encumbered desk, taking off his spectacles and whipping off the imaginary dusk on the lenses with a hankerchief. "Right annoying that was, only things worth reading were in those boxes."

"Took them?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows furrowing together in frustration. "Took them where?"

Hobbs looked at her with an annoyed grimace. "How should I know? Do I look like a higher up to you?"

After considering that Hobbs was going to be of no help to her at all, Hermione grabbed her briefcase in frustration and stormed out of the lower levels of the basement.

"Have a brilliant evening Ms. Golden Girl!" Hobbs yelled after her sarcastically, cackling to himself.

After taking the elevator back to her floor, she decided that she would have a cup of tea in her office to calm herself down and then maybe she would go see Kingsley and ask about where they had moved the files on all of the Death Eaters.

For some reason, Draco's urgency to find his mother had left her feeling slightly… uneasy.

According to Harry, his team had found Draco and his father at a safe house, but Narcissa Malfoy had not been with them. In fact, it hadn't even appeared that she had been with them at all. The only clothes they found were clothes of his father and him, and investigation of the safe house turned up nothing; not a hair nor a fingerprint belonging to the woman of the Malfoy family. It was like they had left her behind long before finding that safe house, and even longer before Harry and his team had found them.

But if Narcissa hadn't been with her family, then where was she? The whole of the wizarding world has been made aware that she is on the loose and wanted, and with her son recently having been captured by Aurors and could very well be facing the death penalty, why hadn't she come forward?

Hermione had a very bad feeling that something may have happened to the woman. Though a Death Eater she may be, Hermione remembered what Harry had to say about the woman. How she had lied to Voldemort and told him that Harry was dead when indeed he hadn't been, and how she had risked her life in order to save her son. Perhaps, by staying in hiding, she had been hoping to do the same thing.

"Ms. Granger,"

Hermione turned suddenly at the voice, surprised to see Kingsley out of his office. He face was grave and his tone sounded serious as he approached her, nodding his head in greeting. She felt her heart begin to pound with anxiety.

"Kingsley, good morning," she tried for a casual tone, but it didn't seem that Kingsley was in the mood to pretend with her.

"I need to speak with you in my office." And without another word, he started around her and headed in the direction towards his office. She had no choice but to abandon her idea of hiding out in her office with a warm cup of tea and follow after him.

"How is your case going?" Kingsley asked, nodding absent-mindedly towards a few passing Hit Wizards that passed them. Hermione partly recognized them and they exchanged greetings quickly.

"It's going fine, sir, actually I was hoping you could help me with something." She rushed to keep up with him, and before she could even finish speaking, he had opened up the door to his office and had slipped inside. She quickly followed him inside, closing the door behind her.

"Please, have a seat," he waved towards the chair across from his own and she sat. "What do you need help with?"

"I need to access Narcissa Malfoy's information box. I tried going down to the basement to find it this morning but Hobbs said-"

"Narcissa Malfoy's box no longer exists. I don't know what Hobbs told you, but when the war was still going on, a Death Eater that had been working inside the Ministry had burned all of the records of every known follower. We have been working to restore them, but it's a process and we aren't nearly close to being finished."

Hermione scowled in disappointment. This was not the answer she had been hoping to hear.

"In any news, your case has been temporarily halted."

She had never heard these words before, and it took her a minute to fully grasp what it was that he was saying. She was sure that she was gaping at him in a rather unprofessional way, but frankly the news has come as a shock to her.

"Halted?" she asked, trying to wrap her head around the word.

Kingsley sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly as if to relieve the pressure of some headache before he looked at her and spoke very calmly.

"Malfoy has been moved into isolation in Azkaban. Ever since your interrogation with him a few days ago, he has been acting out. Refusing to eat food, spitting at the guards who walk by his cell, cursing people with wandless magic. This morning he aggressively attacked his keeper and they had to sedate him. He was moved to isolation shortly after. I'm afraid that your case will have to be put on hold until he is released."

Hermione blinked at him, almost not believing it. Her case had been put on hold because Malfoy had been sent to isolation? Because he was acting out like a child having a temper tantrum?

"What am I do to until then?" she asked, failing to keep the haughty tone from her voice.

"Go home Hermione," Kingsley said. "Have some rest, you look exhausted. See your friends, or read some books."

She couldn't believe what he was saying to her. He honestly just wanted her to stop working. Did he even understand how dangerous that was for her? Working was all that kept Hermione going. It was all that she had to keep the constant worry in her head at bay, by burying herself under mounds and mounds of work. She was so used to doing that in school that she supposed she had carried it on over into adulthood.

"When will he be out of isolation?" she asked, trying not to panic at the prospect of going home alone, to her empty apartment, where she will have nothing to do but sit there and sulk and think about everything that she had been trying to avoid. Like Ron.

"They didn't say. Whenever he calms down."

That could take ages.

* * *

Her apartment felt emptier than it ever had before. With no work to keep her mind occupied and having read every book on her shelf, she found herself sitting on her couch, staring into her fireplace with a bottle of wine on the coffee table and a glass in her hand. She had already dressed for bed, having already decided that she wasn't going to leave her apartment for the rest of the night.

When she had gotten home, she had tried reading over Malfoy's letter to Pansy and seeing if he could make sense of it. She tried finding what Blaise had wanted to her to see, but with no such luck. It was frustrating, thinking that whatever it was was probably in plain sight and she just wasn't seeing it.

She reached over to the coffee table and placed her glass down, picking up the note and looking it over. She turned it over in her hands, staring at the scrawled address on the back. She knew it to be Blaise's address and she began to wonder about him; her mind wandering off on its own accord.

She supposed that she knew next to nothing about Blaise Zabini, besides the fact that he had been a Slytherin and a Death Eater, and a close friend of Draco's at some point in their lives. She wondered how his family had managed to avoid the Dementor's Kiss, and how Kingsley had come to know about him. He had said that Blaise was a top student in his law school and she couldn't help but feel a little under qualified for her job, a feeling she definitely wasn't used to.

Most importantly she wondered, if they aren't friends anymore, why Blaise would take the time to be on this case and help him. There were plenty of other cases available for him to join, and if he was as good in law school as Kingsley had said, then he should have no problem finding work.

After a moment of hesitation, Hermione reached over and grabbed a piece of parchment, pulling it to her and beginning to scrawl out a letter to Blaise, requesting that they meet at the café to discuss the contents of Draco's letter, and the minor set back of him being in isolation and halting their case.

When she was done with the brief message, she addressed it carefully to the same address that Blaise had given her. Closing the envelope, she grabbed for her coat and threw it on over her pajamas before she headed downstairs to the main foyer, which held communal owls for the resident's uses.

She signed out a owl to use and attached the letter to its leg. The owl hopped up onto her arm and she headed towards the front door to let it out when suddenly the door swung wide open and nearly smacked into her.

"Oh, Hermione,"

She blinked up into Ron's face, momentarily startled to see him standing in front of her. She hadn't expected to see him, and like an idiot, she gaped at the suddenness of it.

"Ron," she quickly said, regaining her composure and nodding her head towards him. She suddenly felt very exposed, standing in only her pajamas and her over coat. She reached around the owl awkwardly and tightened the band of her coat around herself. "what are you doing here?" she asked, trying to find something natural to do with her hands. The owl sitting on her forearm made it somewhat difficult.

"I uh, I was coming to find you actually," he said, the tips of his ears tinting red. The owl squeaked with impatience and Ron's eyes darted over to finally notice the hyper active thing. "What's with the owl?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I was, just sending out a letter." They stared each other down for a moment and she was beginning to grow increasingly awkward as the moment passed. No, this wasn't the way it was supposed to be. That night that they were together was supposed to fix everything, not make everything worse. If he just hadn't left without saying anything.

Anger at him suddenly sprang up in her chest and she took a steady breath to calm herself before she pushed past him out onto the cold front steps. The owl took off the moment it had room the spread its wings, obviously a bit upset about having been held up when it was given a job to do. Poor thing.

"Hermione, um," Ron stood like the awkward lump that he was in the doorway, his broad shoulders touching the doorframes on each other. "Can we talk?"

No. No, no, no, no. She didn't want to be having this conversation. Not with him, and not now. She had been forcing that morning, and that night to be quite frank, from her mind and she did not have the energy in her to force the conversation now. She turned to look at him, preparing herself to tell him that she wasn't in the mood, and that perhaps he could come back another time. But the look on his face made her stop in her tracks.

He stared at her with that hopeful gaze he always gets in his eyes whenever he asks if she had heard from Harry, when they both knew for a fact that Harry hadn't the time to contact either of them while he was on out his mission. She didn't understand where all his hopefulness came from, but he knew how to use it to his advantage that was for sure.

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest protectively and nodding her head, knowing that she was going to regret this. "Yeah, sure," she moved by him as quickly as she could, heading up the stairs back to her apartment. She hadn't realized it until Ron showed up, but she really did appreciate her alone time.

After taking off their coats and settling in, Hermione found herself awkwardly sitting on one end of the couch while Ron occupied the other end. At first, neither of them said anything or looked at each other. She wanted to start the conversation just so it would end sooner, but she didn't know how, and so she waited for him to speak.

Silence engulfed them and the fire in the fireplace crackled merrily, blissfully unaware of the occupants inside the room. The wine bottle sat on the coffee table and her unfinished glass sat next to it.

"How's work going?" Ron asked, finally breaking the silence.

This question angered her more than she expected it to, and her eyes flashed over to look at him. For a moment she hoped that he was kidding. But judging by the uncomfortable look at his face and the awkward smile that he was trying to give her, she knew that he was serious. Why would he waste his time beating around the bush?

"What?" she asked, trying to contain her growing anger towards him. It was moments like these that she remembered why they probably wouldn't have worked in the first place.

"How's work?" he asked again, obviously not getting the hint.

"It's fine." She huffed, crossing her arms tighter over her chest and turning her head to look away from him. She heard him shift his weight on the other side of the couch.

"Have I upset you?"

The tears came to her eyes before she could stop them. She forced them at bay, but they shimmered and blurred her vision almost instantly. She could feel the pain in her chest at the thought of him having abandoned her and she couldn't hold it back any longer.

"Why did you leave, Ron?"

"What?"

She looked over at him and a single tear began to slide down her cheek, though she forced herself to remain calm.

"That night. That morning. You left without even saying goodbye."

He blinked at her for a moment, looking genuinely concerned, and this only seemed to piss her off more. "I… didn't know you would have wanted me to,"

"Why wouldn't I have wanted you to?" she yelled, feeling her hands clench into fists in her lap.

"I don't know, you were sleeping Hermione! You seemed tired, I didn't want to wake you!"

She snorted, rolling her eyes and turning away from him again.

"What do you want from me Hermione?" he was standing to his feet now and she looked over at him again, noting the red coloring his cheeks in anger. "You don't want to be together, because whenever I try to make any sort of advance you hide from me, but then you don't want to be just friends. I mean really, what do you want from me?"

"I don't know!" She yelled, standing to her feet as well and running a frustrated hand through her hair.

"Oh, you don't know? So I'm just supposed to stand around until you figure it out then?"

"No! That's not it-"

"Then what is it Hermione?" he yelled, taking a step towards her.

"I'm just lonely!"

"You're just lonely?" he asked, his voice suddenly quieting. She dared to look him in the eyes and noted the small hint of hurt inside of them. Her heart ached to reach out to him, but she attempted to, he took a quick step away from her. "So that's it then? You don't feel anything for me at all? You were with me because you were lonely?"

"Ron… It's not like that," she tried, her voice cracking and the tears gathering in her eyes again.

"No, it is Hermione." He pursed his lips together into a tight line and stared her down for a moment and for once she was at a loss for words. "That's exactly what it is. You'll go see Harry any time of the day, but you'll stop by and have a chat with me if you're lonely,"

"Ron that's ridiculous-"

"Is it though?"

Silence followed and she could feel the tears streaming down her face. This was the part she had been hoping to avoid until later on, when she had time to think. He was making her choose, right then and now, what it was that she wanted but she just didn't _know_. She didn't know whether she wanted to try things with him again, but she knew how lonely she was all the time and that sometimes during she thought about him and wished for his presence. But it was still all too confusing and she didn't know how to put any of that into words.

Talking about her emotions, especially her emotions for Ron, had always been something she lacked the ability to do.

"It seems like you have some things to think about," he was reaching for his coat and Hermione began to panic. She tried desperately to come up with something to say but everything that came into her mind sounded stupid and pathetic.

He threw his coat on over his shoulders and started heading for the door. It felt like the forest all over again. Like he was storming out and he wouldn't come back again. There was no shining ball of light with her saying his name and floating into his chest to bring him back.

"Ron, wait," she said, quickly hurrying around the table. Before she had time to think about it, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him around to face her. She touched the sides of his face, feeling his unshaven stubble against the palms of her hands before she pulled him down and kissed him.

He stilled for a moment, surprised by her actions, before he reached a hand around her waist and pulled her flush against his chest. They kissed in silence and Hermione tried hard to convey every confusing feeling she had inside of her to him through her lips.

They broke the kiss and, panting, Ron looked her in the eyes and asked quietly, "… What did you feel?"

She blinked up at him, not expecting him to ask that question. She had been hoping to ask him, so that he could tell her what emotions it was that she kissed him with, and perhaps he could explain to her what it was that she was feeling. In actuality, she hadn't been focusing on the kiss at all.

"I…" she breathed, but he was already shaking his head and turning away from her. His arm left her waist and she immediately grew cold. She reached out for him again. "Ron…"

He didn't look at her as he opened the door, mumbling over his shoulder "Goodnight Hermione." He closed the door behind him as he left and just like before, she suddenly found herself very alone.


	12. Think About It Granger

_**Author's Note:**_

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. All characters, items, placed and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

Blaise wanted to meet the next day for coffee. Hermione didn't know how she had managed to gather up enough energy to drag herself out of bed, shower, and head off to the muggle world to meet him, but now here she sat at the same tiny booth she had occupied last time. She watched him enter the café in the same fashion that she had watched him enter the last time. He wore a button down and had the same pea coat that she had seen him wear last time.

He hung up the coat on a hanger and headed for her booth, dodging around a waitress and squeezing between the tables in the small cramped area before he found himself next to her table.

"Granger," he said, this time greeting her before he sat himself down across from her. She tried sitting up straighter, but again she couldn't help but feel underdressed and underprepared. Having barely had enough energy to get up, for she had been up all night thinking about her fight with Ron and hadn't managed to get a lot of sleep, she convinced herself that she could wear a pair of comfy joggers and a baggy sweatshirt.

With her hair thrown up into a messy ponytail, she glanced over his appearance with a scowl before she tried to do her best to act civil.

"Blaise," was the best she could muster up.

She caught him glancing over her appearance and a small frown appeared on his lips. He caught eyes with her and she tried her best not to shrink up into a tiny hole. Why did she care what Blaise Zabini thought of her anyway? He was on her team, after all, it wasn't the other way around.

"You've been crying."

What is it with former Slytherins and their abrupt way of saying exactly what she was hoping to avoid? Was there ink of her face? She blinked over at him, crossing her arms on the tabletop in front of her and squeezing her biceps with tight fingers through her sweatshirt.

She thought about lying to him, and telling him that she had no idea what he was talking about, but the way that he was looking at her told her that he wouldn't believe that for a second. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to raise her chin and stop thinking about Ron and the mess he had caused for her last night with their fight. She was here to work, and discuss Malfoy's case and to inform Blaise that his former friend has been locked away in isolation.

"Yes, well… anyway-"

"Why?"

She almost cringed at this before she looked at him suspiciously. Why did Blaise Zabini want to know why she was crying? Why did he want to know anything about her at all? Shouldn't his main focus, as being apart of this team, be on Malfoy? She looked at him, but his face showed almost no signs of emotion. It was nearly impossible to read him or figure out what he was thinking. This frustrated her to no end and she scowled heavily at him in annoyance.

"I really don't see how that's any of your business," she snapped, maybe a bit harsher than she had to. She just felt so irritable and stressed out.

One of Blaise's eyebrows shot up at her tone and he stared her down for a long moment before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"I just assumed that you'd want someone to talk to. You look a right mess, and your eyes are puffy and red."

She was just on the verge of telling him that if she wanted to talk to someone about what was bothering her that she had other people she could go to, and that she didn't need him commenting on her appearance, but then it slowly dawned on her. The realization that she really didn't have anybody to talk to at all about this. Harry was still gone on his mission to find Narcissa, and even if he was here, Ron was his best friend. He was also Ginny's brother, and so talking to either of them about him probably wasn't going to go the way she wanted it to.

They would go on about how he was a good guy, and how he hadn't meant to leave her alone that morning. At that point Ginny would probably jump in and say that was her fault and that she had told him to go see their mother that morning. Harry would continue by saying that she just needed to give him time and that he really was the best person out there for her.

And while that is all fine and well, and she knows that she has no reason to be upset with Ron for leaving so early in the morning without saying goodbye, that still had nothing to do with why they were fighting. They were fighting because Hermione didn't know if Ron was the best person out there for her, and she didn't know if she was right for him or even if he was ready to be with anyone at all.

Harry and Ginny would not take too kindly to hearing that.

Suddenly she was overcome with the feeling of being completely alone, like she had back at her apartment after Ron had left.

She shifted in her seat, suddenly aware that Blaise as still sitting across from her, staring at her and waiting for her to answer him. She licked her lips nervously, reaching a hand up to nibble on her fingernail.

Did she want to tell Blaise what had happened? Did she really want to discuss this with him, and open up to him like that? Opening up to people about her emotions was hard for her, especially to someone she had never really hung out with before, or knew at all for that matter. They had been schoolmates and nothing more up until recently.

"You're humming."

His voice pulled her from her thoughts and she blinked at him, taking her nail from between her lips.

"What?"

"You were humming, just a moment ago."

Her cheeks flushed hot and she dropped her hands into her lap, biting her lip nervously. Gosh she was making such an idiot of herself. What was wrong with her. She closed her eyes and took a calming breath to gather her courage before she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, letting her shoulders drop heavily.

"I'm sorry, I… do that sometimes when I'm thinking."

"What are you thinking about?"

Hesitantly, she lowered her hand and looked over at him. "I… had a fight last night. With someone that I care about."

"Wealsey."

She blinked in surprised at him. "Um, yes… How did you-"

"Know?" he cocked an eyebrow at her, and for the first time she watched a little smirk of amusement crawl its way onto his lips. "Granger, if you two were trying to be sneaky about your relationship, I hope you know that you've failed quite miserably. It's also no surprise that you two would have had a fight. You guys were always fighting it out at Hogwarts, why should I assume now would be any different?"

Hermione didn't know why, but this statement boiled her blood.

"Why are you to assume that I'm still with Ron?"

That amused smirk grew a little bit more. "Are you with someone else? Or have you ever been with someone else?"

She stared at him for a long moment, unable to come up with a witty response for the first time in her life. Blaise shook his head, his smirk slowly dissolving before he leaned his elbows on the table and moved forward, as though he were about to tell her a secret.

"Granger, you can't be angry with me just because I assumed you were with Weasley when you weren't with anyone before him. I mean, there was that thing with Krum a while back I suppose, but everyone knew that that had ended the moment he had left Hogwarts."

This thought that Blaise, someone who barely knew her, was able to tell her that she had never been with anyone other than Ron made her feel uncomfortable. Maybe this was why she felt like she didn't want to be with him. Perhaps she felt like she didn't like him anymore because she was afraid that she was missing out on being with other people. She hadn't exactly had the most carefree teenage years, and perhaps that's what she was craving, deep down inside.

"Do you want to talk about the case?" Blaise asked, probably taking her lack of a response as her being insulted and not wanting to talk about her relationships any further. Or perhaps he simply didn't want to hear about it anymore, or thought that he already knew it all considering that there wasn't much to tell.

She furrowed her eyebrows together and scowled, a little uneasy that she hadn't come up with this thought on her own.

"The case is… halted, for now," she mumbled, a little distractedly.

Blaise frowned at this. "What?"

Hermione shook her head, trying to force Ron out of her mind and she brought her hand to her forehead. She knew she shouldn't have opened up to him. What was she even thinking? She had come to see him to talk about work, to distract herself from last night, and now here she was, a complete mess and unable to gather her thoughts correctly. He must think she was some type of joke.

"Granger?"

She looked up at the sound of his voice, not even realizing that frustrated tears had begun to gather in her eyes. Perhaps it was her blurry vision, but she could have sworn she saw something close to concern reflect through his eyes when he looked at her.

When his fingertips touched the knuckles of her left hand, she jerked away, her chair screeching against the floor. She hadn't expected him to reach out and touch her. She was, after all, just a filthy mudblood, why would he even bother dirtying his hands in an attempt to… what? Comfort her? But she realized much too late that her jerky behavior had offended him, for he scowled harshly at her.

"You know Granger, for someone working to right the wrong that was done in the war, and for someone who is supposed to be working to defend people who have been caught up in the wrong… you really have some set stereotypes and prejudices." He stood up and she didn't know why but that same panicked feeling she had felt in her stomach when Ron had turned away from her came rushing back.

She lunged to her feet before she had time to think about what it was that she was doing.

"Wait," she said, perhaps a little louder than she had intended. A group of muggle teenagers turned to glance at them from the next table over, obviously thinking that they had front row seats to some type of lover's quarrel. She shifted a little under their gaze, but her plea had stopped Blaise in his tracks and he turned to look at her. "Draco he's…" she glanced at the teenagers who, getting the hint, turned back around in their seats.

Blaise stepped back towards the table, raising an eyebrow, his expression still locked in an annoyed stare. "He's what?"

"He's been put in isolation at Azkaban… he's not allowed visitors and… Kingsley halted his case until he has been released."

He stared at her, processing this information, and slowly his expression changed to one of concentration. "Just because Kingsley halted the process, and there aren't anymore hearings or interviews, that doesn't mean we can't still work on his case. Did you read his letter?"

Finally, back to business.

"Yes, I did," Hermione gestured towards the seats but Blaise made no attempt to sit down. Uncomfortably, she crossed her arms over her chest and shifted on her feet. "I… couldn't find anything useful in it."

"You couldn't?" he seemed genuinely shocked and she glared at him.

"It wasn't exactly chop full of information."

"No it wasn't but," He looked away from her momentarily, as if he were debating something, before he sighed and turned back to look at her. "Look, I'm not supposed to say any of this directly. I was hoping maybe you'd be able to crack the letter, so I wouldn't have to. If anyone finds out I told you this…" he hesitated before he said, "A lot of people were in the wrong during the war Granger, a lot of _innocent_ people; people who had no choice of what they were doing. This simple letter… it makes a statement for a lot of guilty people. Pansy, her family, Draco's mum, all of them will be charged for being Death Eaters-"

"What does any of this have to do with his case?" Hermione cut in, her patience wearing thin.

Blaise pursed his lips together into a thin line before he took a step towards her. He was standing so close that she could smell the cologne on his neck rafting up into her nose.

"It doesn't," he admitted slowly, before rushing on, "Granger, this case… it's bigger than just Draco. This case is for all of the former Death Eater's children, this case is for all of the wrongly accused-"

"Malfoy isn't wrongly accused. He helped Death Eater's break into Hogwarts, he attempted murder against Albus Dumbledore, he had the dark mark-"

"Then why are you defending him?"

She blinked up at him, her mouth slightly a gap at his sudden harsh tone. Her mouth tried to form words but it struggled momentarily before finally she muttered out, "It's… It's my j-"

"It's your job? That's the only reason you're doing this?"

She didn't answer him, for she didn't know how. Of course that was the only reason she had taken Malfoy's case. There was no other reason for it. Kingsley had given her the case, after she hadn't had one in weeks, and the publicity she could gain from this case would be phenomenal for her career.

Blaise sighed heavily, running a hand over his head before he said quietly, "You better start thinking about the bigger picture here Granger. This isn't just about Draco, and this isn't just about your job, or my opportunity to get a job. This is about bringing closure to a war. That's what I wanted you to get from that letter."

He was turning again, and heading for the door. She stared at him, her mind working at light speed. He had told her when she had first asked him why he wanted to be apart of her team that he had merely wanted the publicity from it, and that it had nothing to do with his past relationship with Malfoy. And maybe it didn't have anything to do with Malfoy at all. Maybe it had to do with something else. Something closer to the heart that he wasn't going to tell her.

"Blaise,"

He stopped by the door, his hand reaching for his coat. This time, he didn't turn around to look at her.

"I'm sorry."

He pulled his coat down from the rack and threw it over his shoulders before he glanced over his shoulder at her.

"Think about it Granger… I know you're smarter than this."

* * *

Harry returned a few nights later from his search, completely empty handed. He immediately requested that Hermione and Ron come over for dinner, saying in his letter that he missed them both terribly.

Hermione thought about saying no, or pretending to be sick, but she knew that she had to speak to Harry as soon as possible. And if that meant getting through an uncomfortable dinner with Ron, then she would just have to do it.

Luckily for her, George came along as well, and distracted Ron with endless banter about Quidditch- a topic Hermione hadn't heard the boys participate in in years.

While Ginny was passing out dessert, Hermione knew that her window to talk to Harry privately was closing. So far, no one had discussed his mission to find Narcissa Malfoy, and while she hated to be the one to remind him of work, she had gone several days sitting in her apartment unable to do anything work related. All she was able to do was sit and think about her conversation with Blaise and, for some reason she could not fathom, think about the fact that Malfoy was in isolation up at Azkaban.

Harry caught eyes with her and the look on her face must have been enough for him to tell what she was wanted. He nodded his head and kissed Ginny's cheek while she put pudding on his plate before he stood to his feet and headed towards the bathroom. Hermione jumped to her feet and followed after him, trying to ignore Ron's blatant staring.

When she caught up to him, Harry was standing in the bathroom watching his own reflection, moving his messy hair about his head as though he might be able to make it presentable.

He turned to look at her and smiled a tired, boyish smile at her.

"How was your search?" she asked, unable to find a suitable way to ease herself into the conversation.

"We didn't find her… like I suspected, it was a shot in the dark. Some people just looking for money. How has your case been going?"

"Malfoy is in isolation at Azkaban," she blurted out. "I had an interview with him and it didn't go… quite well. According to the guards, he began to act up, getting into fights and doing wandless magic, I didn't even know he knew how to do wandless magic. Kingsley put the case on hold until he's released, which could-"

"Take ages." Harry finished for her, nodding his head slowly.

"He's looking for his mum Harry," Hermione whispered slowly, watching his reaction closely.

His eyebrows furrowed together. "Did he tell you that?"

"No he…" she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, as though she could still see him lunging at her, and grabbing for her wrist with his urgency shining clear on his face. "He… grabbed me, performed legilimens to look into my mind, to see if I had been interviewing his mother I think."

"But Narcissa was gone long before we found Malfoy or his father? Surely they wouldn't have abandoned her, or left her behind?"

"I don't know… he doesn't talk Harry. It's so frustrating. I'm trying everything I can but he's just… he's not who he used to be, you know?"

Harry sighed heavily, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose as though to relieve a growing headache.

"When he gets out of isolation, and you go to interview him again, I'll go with you. This case has to start moving along. If it doesn't…" he looked up at her seriously, "something is going on Hermione. I can feel it. And the Wizengamot won't sit on Malfoy's case forever. In their eyes, he's already got his one-way ticket to the Dementor's Kiss."

She nodded, slightly comforted with the idea of Harry going with her to the next interview. Malfoy might not appreciate it, but if it gets him talking, then she was willing to try it.

"How are you and Ron?"

Hermione blinked at him before she shook her head. "Let's not talk about that, okay?"

Harry stared at her, and for a moment she was sure that he was going to push the matter, before he finally nodded his head and reached a hand out to squeeze her shoulder comfortingly.

"Okay."


	13. Another Failed Interrogation

**_Author's Note:_**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J. K. Rowling. All characters, items, placed and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

Malfoy was released from isolation a few days later and Hermione scheduled to interview him the next day. She wouldn't lie and say that she wasn't a bit nervous about going to see him again, especially now with the company of Harry. She didn't know how he was going to react to her bringing him, but she would rather have Harry go with her than go alone another outburst.

She hadn't spoken to Ron at all since the night of their fight. After discussing with Harry in the bathroom about everything that had happened, he had left shortly after, proclaiming that he wasn't feeling well. He tried to catch Hermione's eye, but she refused to let him, and she also refused to go after him. The rest of the night had been slightly awkward, as it was clear that something had gone on that not everyone knew about.

Blaise had contacted her the morning of her interview with Malfoy, saying that he had talked to Kingsley and heard about Malfoy's isolation and his release. He asked to meet with her tomorrow to discuss Malfoy's case further, and even apologized for his abrupt departures during their last meetings. She didn't know why this apology meant so much to her, but it had and she responded immediately saying that he could come to her apartment.

She didn't know why she chose her apartment. They could have met again for coffee, or even in her office at the Ministry, but she had already sent the letter, and what was done was done.

Now she stood outside Azkaban's gates once more, this time with Harry by her side instead of Steinfield. Though as bumbling and new as he was, she had grown accustomed to Steinfield tagging along with her. To leave him behind felt a little odd, but she appreciated having Harry by her side again. Just like old times.

The guard asked them to state their business, but this time Harry answered him before Hermione could even open her mouth to attempt to.

"We're here to speak with Malfoy. Ministry business."

The guard glanced Harry over, noting his dark hair and glasses and finally the mark on his forehead. His face softened and he nodded earnestly. "Of course, Mr. Potter," he mumbled under the thrashing of the waves before he turned and disappeared into the darkness to lift the gates.

"I've been here to interview him before," Hermione said, eyeing him for a moment.

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Old habits die hard… I'll let you do the talking."

She supposed she could understand his hastiness to control matters around him. For once, Hermione would be running the show and Harry would be following along behind her. This gave her a bit more confidence, and when the gate began to open, she led the way inside.

Jackson was standing in the foyer waiting for them. A large bruise covered the right side of his dark face and Hermione's feet stopped on their own accord. She knew Kingsley had said that Malfoy had attacked his keeper, but she hadn't expected to see him having done any actual harm to such a large man.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Jackson jested, gesturing towards the discoloration on his face.

"Did Malfoy do that?" Hermione asked with concern, moving towards him to get a closer look.

"I'm afraid so. Little fucker is tougher than he looks, I'll give him that," Jackson's eyes moved towards Harry and he quickly stuck out his hand in greeting. "I'm Jackson, Malfoy's keeper, it's a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Potter."

Harry shook Jackson's hand and nodded, just as uncomfortably as he always was when people called him 'Mr. Potter' and acted as though he were some big shot in need of recognition.

"Malfoy's keeper?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I look after all of his interviews and things," Jackson waved a hand towards a long hallway and began to lead the three of them towards the interrogation room. "I used to be in charge of his transfers as well, when he was being interviewed up at the Ministry. I suspect they're a bit weary about allowing him up there again after his last out burst. They think he got a bit too comfortable for his own good."

"Makes sense," Harry grumbled under his breath, his eyes concentrating on each door they passed.

Hermione realized that this would be the first time Harry had seen Malfoy since he had been captured. She was sure he was eager to see what all the fuss was about.

Jackson stopped by a solid door and turned to look towards Hermione.

"If he tries anything, or if anything happens-"

"You'll be right outside, I know Jackson," Hermione tried for a reassuring smile, though she felt a bit nervous again being in the heart of Azkaban. "Thank you."

He nodded his head before he opened the door and allowed the two entrance. Hermione went first, thinking that she could distract Malfoy from Harry's presence at least for a bit. He sat in a chair on the other side of the table, with his arms and legs bound as always. This time, however, he wore a different uniform than before. His left sleeve was still attached, and instead of the usual gray, his uniform was now a dark navy blue color. The darker color made his blond hair brighter than she could ever remember seeing it.

His gray eyes lifted from the ground to look at her, and he sat up straighter, his mouth opening as though he were about to speak. Hermione halted in her tracks, eager to hear what he had to say, but the moment Harry came into the room after her, Malfoy's expression changed dramatically.

His mouth snapped shut and his eyes seemed to harden and grow cold. His muscles tightened and the chains around his ankles rattled as though he were trying to stand.

He glared towards him and his voice was stiff as he growled, "Get out."

Hermione, instantly finding her courage and remembering that it was only Malfoy that she was dealing with, stepped forward and sat herself down in the chair across from him. "He's not going anywhere Malfoy."

His eyes flashed over to look at her before he sneered. He glanced back at Harry and said harshly, "Fuck. You. I don't want you here. You're not apart of my case."

"I brought you in. I'm as every apart of your case as Hermione is."

"He's only here because you went and got yourself locked up in isolation." She didn't know where her sudden anger came from, whether it was from Ron or from Malfoy, but she used it to fuel her confidence and push forward. "You got your case halted, you know that? And you gave the Wizengamot every reason to keep you locked away forever-"

"It wasn't my fault!" Malfoy yelled, turning his blazing eyes away from Harry. "They started it!"

"Who started it?"

"The other inmates. I bet it didn't say anything about them in that isolation report did it?" He spat in anger, his arms flexing when he tried to lift his hand to his face only to be restricted by the braces.

"You attacked Jackson-"

"I thought he was an inmate trying to fight me again! It was the middle of the night, I couldn't see anything-"

"Stop lying Malfoy," Harry stepped in, looking annoyed. "We aren't interested in your stories-"

"Don't fucking talk to me," he yelled at Harry, rounding on him.

"We're here to talk about your case. Why are you looking for Narcissa?"

"Why are _you_?" Malfoy spat back.

"She's a wanted refugee Malfoy," Hermine stepped in, trying for a lighter tone and to civilize the conversation. Things were getting too heated much too quickly. As this rate, they'll throw them both out before they're able to get anything remotely important from him. "She's a follower of Voldemort-"

"Like hell she is! My father was the Death Eater, my mother had nothing to do with it-"

The door opened and Hermione's stomach filled with dread when she saw Jackson enter the room followed by another Azkaban guard. She jumped to her feet, glancing towards Harry before catching eyes with Jackson.

"Wait, everything is fine. I just need a few more-"

"Sorry Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter," the other guard said, heading towards Malfoy. "He's being too loud for our liking." He grabbed for Malfoy's arm and tugged at the restraints.

Hermione went to move forward, and Harry and Jackson both went to stop her.

"Don't Hermione," Harry said.

When Malfoy's leg restraints were freed, he kicked as hard as he could, knocking the table over and lunging for the guard. Jackson yanked out his wand and pointed it towards Malfoy's neck, stilling the blond instantly. Hermione had seen him do this before, so the second time didn't leave her as immobilized as she had been before.

"Please, just a few more minutes, I have to-"

"She's innocent Granger," Malfoy snapped, when the guard gathered himself and pulled him back into his restraints. His eyes locked onto hers and he looked desperate. "She didn't do anything! You have to let her go-"

"Shut up," the nameless guard said, yanking Malfoy towards the door.

"We have to find her Malfoy," Harry spoke up. "She needs to speak before the Wizengamot. She could be released of her charges if-"

"Bullshit!" Malfoy lunged for Harry, but the guard's tight hold held him back and Harry hardly even flinched. "You're a liar! You're a fucking liar!"

And just as quickly as it all had gone to shit, he was gone again, being yanked from the room. Jackson glanced towards Hermione, looking as though he were about to apologize, before he turned quickly and left without another word.

She felt her insides beginning to shake and she sat down hard in her chair, feeling the tears of frustration rolling down her face. She clasped her hands over her face to hide herself. Why was this so difficult? Why couldn't this have just been easier? And now that he was finally talking, of course she had made the wrong judgment in letting Harry come with her.

A hand touched her shoulder and she looked up quickly, locking eyes with Harry's concerned face.

"Hermione?"

She sighed heavily, reaching a hand up and wiping at the tears on her cheeks. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she mumbled under her breath.

"Come on, let's go back to the house."

* * *

Harry had barely gotten through telling Ginny what had happened while Hermione sat in the living room with a hot cup of tea trying to collect herself before the red haired girl came flying into the room. She stalked up to Hermione and knocked the tea out of her hands, spilling the contents all over the floor. Hermione jumped and Harry came rushing into the living room after her.

"Ginny-"

"Get out." She said harshly and Hermione jumped at this sudden anger.

"I don't understand-" Hermione whispered, but Ginny was shaking her head.

"How dare you drag Harry into that mess. This case has nothing to do with him. You're the one who decided to try and defend Malfoy, for the life of me I can't figure out why. He's not responsible to look after you and protect you anymore. You're not a child, you're a grown "

Hermione stood to her feet, glancing over Ginny's shoulder towards Harry, looking for some type of help. But Harry remained where he was in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe and looking sadly towards his wife.

She instantly felt horrible about having Harry come with her. Of course Ginny was upset. Most of the time Harry was off looking for some dangerous criminal. When he was home, they just wanted to live a normal, safe life. And Hermione had gone and messed that up.

"Ginny I… I'm sorry-"

"Just get out." She pointed towards the door, and there was nothing left for her to do expect to leave.

She picked up her jacket and moved past Ginny, rushing towards the door. She had just reached the apparition point before she turned to look towards their tiny cottage. Her stomach tightened with sadness, and loneliness. She felt like a dog being put outside. She tightened her jacket around her before she squeezed her eyes closed and disappeared with a quick pop.


	14. A Lead To Narcissa

_**Author's Note:**_

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J.K. Rowling. All characters, items, places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

The next few days were lonely for Hermione. She didn't dare go see Ron at the Weasley's Wizards Joke Shop, even on days when she could see him from her bedroom window down the street standing by the front door of the shop and looking towards her apartment building. She figured that he must know by now about her fight with Harry, and if she went over to see him, it would look even more like she was using him for comfort.

And perhaps she was. Perhaps she had never really liked him the way she had thought she had and she had only ever thought of him like that because she was lonely. The thought made her insides turn. Her talk with him a few days ago had left her shaken and even more confused than before.

She spent her lonely days staring intently at Malfoy's useless case file and daydreaming. She tried to imagine what it would be like to be in Azkaban. She tried to imagine the cold air and the constant dread, or the leering gazes of the Dementors as they swept over head. She tried to imagine the guards making their rounds, or the sounds of the other inmates.

The first day she only thought about the building of Azkaban. The second day she thought about the inmates, and how most of them were guilty for unimaginable and gruesome crimes. She tried to imagine what those crimes could possibly be, and then decided that she didn't really want to know. The third day she found herself thinking about Malfoy.

She pulled the case file into her lap while taking a sip of her glass of wine. She used her fingers to pinch the rectangular photo from the file and slid it out. Draco Lucius Malfoy shone in black ink on the back. She flipped the photo over and glanced at his face.

His platinum hair hung low and mussed. The amount of times she had looked over this photo, you'd think she would have memorized it by now. She focused on the cut on his chin and wondered how he had gotten it. It was small and sat slightly off center to the left. Her thumb ran over the tiny scar, as though she would be able to feel it through the picture.

Photo Malfoy's lip turned up into a sneer seemingly at her touch and she sighed heavily into the brim of her glass.

"Why did you do it Malfoy…" she muttered quietly, as though she expected him to come to life and answer her.

Why was he the sniveling boy that she had grown up with. Why had he joined the Death Eaters so young, and worked so hard to destroy Dumbledore and everything he had helped build. Why had he run. And perhaps most importantly, why was he so desperate to find Narcissa?

Hermione bit her lip, glancing towards the letter to Pansy that sat on her table. Blaise's address stared back at her and she was suddenly very aware of how alone she was in her apartment. She couldn't stay coped up in there forever, no matter how much she may have wanted to.

Perhaps she could meet up with Blaise and discuss the case more. They needed to decide what their next plan of action was, and what they planned to do if and when Narcissa was caught, and perhaps a bit of work would be good for her to keep her mind busy.

Hermione absentmindedly rubbed her thumb along the photo of Malfoy, feeling the sleek surface against her fingers. After a moment, she glanced down at her fingers, scowling at yet another mystery that had been plaguing her for the past few days.

Malfoy felt the need to rub his thumb to his pointer finger whenever she was around interrogating him. She still hadn't been able to crack that secret, and that seemed like a really good place to move her case forward. Maybe it was a secret code. Something that him and Blaise had come up with together in school. Maybe if she asked Blaise, he would be able to tell her what it was that Draco wanted from her.

Without much of a second thought, Hermione lumbered to her feet, yanked her blanket tighter around her shoulders, and padded towards the letter on the counter. She snatched it up and quickly set about looking for a bit of parchment and quill. When she had gathered all of her materials from around the house, she quickly scrawled out a note to Blaise about needing his help on the case.

She wasn't even sure if he would be willing to meet with her after their argument in the café, but she had no choice. They were partners and she really did need his help.

She stared at the small scribblings in front of her, debating on how much she really wanted to go outside. Finally, after a slight moment of hesitation and then a quick scolding for her hostility, she asked him to meet her at her apartment and wrote down the address.

She sealed the letter and shuffled towards the door, sliding on her boots and making the trek down the stairs to the main foyer.

She picked a scrawny barn owl to deliver her message, and sent him on his way out the front door. She watched the little owl fly off into the night and wondered how far away Blaise Zabini lived from her. She shook her head, scowling to herself and heading back up the stairs to her apartment. Was she really so lonely that she felt the company of an ex death-eater would be better than no company at all?

She had just entered her apartment and kicked off her boots when she decided that changing out of her pajamas would probably be a good way to pass the time. She entered into her bedroom and changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater. After only a few minutes, a resounding pop sounded through the open window of her room.

Hermione glanced over at the window, shifting slightly on her feet. Did he live so close that the owl had found him so quickly? She crossed the floor silently and glanced outside. A tall figure with a dark hat on disappeared into her apartment building, and she could tell by his stealthy behavior that it was definitely Blaise.

She glanced down the street towards the joke shop, knowing full well that it was past closing time. She was certain that Ron would have already gone home, but a quick sweep of the second floor showed that a light was on in the office.

A knock sounded on the door and a voice called out. "Granger?"

She turned from the window in her bedroom after a moment of hesitation before heading towards the front door. She ran fingers through her bushy hair before giving up in any attempts to make it look manageable.

Blaise's tall figure stood before her when she pulled open the door. He was adorned in slacks and a button down with a black cloak draped lazily about his shoulders. He pulled a hat from the top of his head and nodded towards her.

"Granger," he said, his tone polite and stiff. "May I come in?" he asked, "Or shall I stay in the doorway and we can talk about the case here?"

Hermione cringed, knowing deep down that she deserved his cold attitude a little bit. She swiftly took a step back and opened up the doorway for him. "Please, come in."

He nodded again at her before stepping inside. He released the cloak from around his shoulders and draped it over one arm while Hermione closed the door behind him. He kicked off his boots beside hers.

"Um, would you like something to drink?" she offered, stepping around his large form and heading over to the kitchen.

His eyes looked around the apartment in wonder, taking in everything around him. It never dawned on her that Blaise would be coming from, presumably, a rich pureblood household, and that her tiny two room apartment would look considerably strange and small to him. Not to mention her apartment was filled with muggle artifacts that he may never have seen before.

"Whiskey, if you've got it."

"I don't," she said, glancing over at him.

"Then perhaps a bit of wine," he compromised, turning his gaze towards her and waving a hand towards the half empty bottle of wine at the kitchen counter.

Hermione hesitated. She was hoping to save the wine for herself later that night when she would really be alone, but decided that probably it was for the best. She grabbed a fresh glass from the cupboard and began pouring him some of the red liquid. Blaise advanced further into the room, placing his jacket down on the back of a chair. His wandering gaze stopped at a bookshelf across the way.

She followed his gaze towards the bookshelf. "I keep my memories and valuables there," she said, trying to fill the silence.

When she glanced back over at him, he was no longer looking at the bookshelf, but at the photo of Malfoy from his case file. Blaise's expression was hard and concentrating, and the stillness of his lips made him seem almost statue-like. After what seemed like a long time he blinked before setting the photo down on the counter and looking up at her. He reached his slender fingers out towards her.

She looked at the photo in between them before passing the glass of wine into his hand.

He swirled the liquid and then sniffed it, like a man who really knew what he was doing when it came to wine.

"Don't get too excited. It was two galleons at the grocery store down the street," she said, corking the bottle and placing it back into the fridge.

She caught sight of a look just as it was leaving Blaise's face before he took a hesitant sip. His face showed no signs of liking or disliking the liquid, but he put the glass down and crossed his arms over his chest in a way that told her he would not be finishing it.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

She could feel the depressing thoughts that she had been thinking the past few days slowly start to disappear at the talk of work. She supposed even the company of an ex-death eater was better than no company at all.

"I wanted to ask you something about Malfoy," she started off, picking up Malfoy's photo and sliding it back into the case file.

"Alright," Blaise said professionally.

"I've been to see him a few times now for interviews, and every time I see him it's like he's trying to tell me something, but he just won't do it. Like it's a big secret and I'm meant to just know exactly what it is that he wants from me."

Blaise looked slightly confused. There was a furrow to his brow of deep concentration before he shook his head, seemingly lost. "How do you know?"

Hermione shifted on the balls of her feet before she decided to just plunge right into it.

"He does… Well, he does this," she said, holding up her fingers and rubbing them together to show him.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her. "Like he wants money?"

Hermione scowled in annoyance. "No, not like _this_ ," she rubbed her fingers together like a greedy goblin wanting money. "Like… this." She held up her pointer and thumb rubbed just the pads together in a slow circle.

Blaise blinked at her, concentrating on the movement of her fingers. The confused expression on his face made her lose hope in her theory that maybe he would know what the blonde was trying to say.

"That… doesn't mean anything to you?" Hermione asked in a defeated tone, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No, it doesn't," he said slowly, with a slight shrug to his shoulders. "But this is good. He's trying to tell us something."

"How is that good if we can't figure out what it is he wants to tell us?"

"Because he's still trying." Blaise said, with a hefty force to his tone.

"You have to come with me next time," she said it without thinking.

"Why?" He raised an eyebrow towards her.

Hermione hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should tell him what she was about to tell him. "I went to interview him and… I told him you were part of the case. He asked where you were and I didn't know what to tell him, so I told him that you too were busy to come. Apparently he didn't really like that idea very much."

Blaise nodded his head slowly, as though he understood something that she did not. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "Alright, I'll come with you next time." He agreed, before he started moving about the room, abandoning the glass of wine on the table. Hermione eyed it carefully, but scolded herself for thinking about taking it back while he was in the apartment.

Blaise stopped in front of her bookshelf and reached for a picture of the golden trio. He had just lifted it from the shelf when a small galleon scraped against the wood and fell to the floor. He scowled down at it before he bent over and picked it up, turning it curiously in his fingers.

"Why do you keep a galleon on a bookshelf of valuables?" he asked, turning towards her and raising an eyebrow.

Hermione came forward and took the coin from him. "Why do you go through people's personal things?" she asked in a haughty tone.

Blaise shrugged, straightening up and placing the picture back on the shelf. "It's interesting to me." He waved a hand at the coin. "So why is it so important?"

Hermione thought about telling him that it was none of his business, but she was scared to offend him again and have him storm out of the apartment. Besides, what was the harm in telling him? She was very proud of her creation of the coin. There was no harm in showing off a bit.

She smiled a little, holding up the galleon for him to see. "It's not just any old galleon," she said a little triumphantly. "It's bewitched. See these numbers here? On any other galleon, it's just a serial number. But on this coin, it tells a time and a date and even a location, for secret meetings."

Blaise looked mildly impressed and curious, to which Hermione could feel a bit of her old schoolgirl self glowing with pride. "How does it work?" he asked, staring at the coin intently and crossing his arms over his chest. For a moment, Malfoy's case was completely forgotten.

"Oh, it's really quite simple," she said, rubbing her thumb over the face of the galleon. The serial numbers swirled and changed, revealing several 0's in its place. The DA have not had a meeting in some time, and nobody had set a charm for the next meeting. "See?" she asked, holding up the coin for him to see the numbers. His bewildered expression made her pause. "What?" she asked, slightly startled.

"Do that again," he demanded.

She glared at him suspiciously before she ran her thumb over the face of the galleon again. Blaise's fingers were quick to wrap tightly around her wrist.

"Who else has these?" he said in an urgent tone, his eyes wide.

"What?" Hermione asked, a little shocked by Blaise's outburst.

He lifted her own hand to her face and waved the galleon around. "Who else has these coins? How many are there?"

Hermione tried to think, though she didn't understand why it was so important for him to know. She couldn't know how many of the coins had survived the war, which was why she kept it hidden away under a picture on her bookshelf of memories, or how many of the DA members might still have theirs.

"Um, I'm not sure, why do you-"

"Malfoy." Blaise said firmly. He let her wrist drop before he turned on his heels and started pacing towards the kitchen counter

"What?"

"Malfoy." He said again, turning to look at her seriously. "I'll bet you anything Malfoy has one of those."

"Why…" Hermione trailed off, glancing down at the galleon that sat in between her fingers. She turned it slowly around, rubbing her finger along the face of the galleon, much in the same fashion that Malfoy would rub his fingers together when he was staring at her from across the investigation table. And like a giant chess piece sliding across the board and then coming to a halt in the perfect position for check mate, everything clicked into place.

Hermione looked up at Blaise, adrenaline racing through her veins at this new development. "In fifth year, Malfoy confiscated some coins from Neville. That's how they knew when our meetings always were for Dumbledore's Army, and how they were able to stop it."

"The only question is, if Malfoy has one coin, who has the other?"

"Narcissa." It came out before she even fully made the connection. Narcissa had to have the other coin. Malfoy kept trying to get Hermione to figure out about the coin so that she could contact Narcissa and see if she were alive. It was the only explanation.

"Can you send her a message?" Blaise asked, reaching for the galleon. Hermione snatched it away.

"It doesn't work like that," she mumbled, her brain moving a million miles an hour. "The coins can be set up to either communicate with all coins, or just have a channel between two twin coins, but you can't send messages. Only a time and a date, and sometimes a location."

"Malfoy must have his own coin with him then," Blaise said.

Hermione scowled at this. "No, he couldn't. Because he's been trying to tell me about it. He's been trying to have me find her for him."

"Or maybe not find her." Blaise said, picking up the case file. "Maybe just his coin to the one she has."

"Do you think he left it somewhere? Before he was captured?"

Blaise paused before he looked over at her. "There's only one way to find out."

* * *

Azkaban was darker and even more unforgiving in the dead of the night. The halls were cold and the sounds of the giant waves crashing against the edges sounded loud and foreboding.

They were let in quickly after Hermione explained who Blaise was and how he was related to the case before they were lead down the long winding hallways towards one of the interrogation rooms.

"Is there any reason you decided waking me in the middle of the-" Malfoy's agitated tone faltered when Blaise entered the room. He stared his former house mate down, glancing between the two of them as though he didn't quite believe what he was seeing before him.

"Malfoy, we need to ask you a few questions," Hermione said, stepping towards the table and taking a seat across from him. Blaise stayed where he was by the door way and Draco continued to stare him down.

A long pause echoed through the room before Draco finally cleared his throat. "What do you want?" he asked, trying to seem annoyed. But something about his demeanor had changed.

"Draco, we know about the coin," Blaise said, coming right out with it.

"Where is yours?" Hermione asked, trying to catch his gaze. "Where does it lead to?"

Malfoy's face became like stone and he straightened in his seat, his expression suddenly determined. "I don't know," he hissed between clenched teeth. Anger flashed through him so intense Hermione could almost feel it, though she had a feeling that anger was not directed at them.

"Draco, we can't help you if you don't-"

"I said I don't know," Malfoy barred his teeth like a vicious dog. "My father took it. I know he did. At the safe house. I woke up one morning and it was gone. I knew he had taken it. I don't know where he hid it."

"At the safe house? The one in Wales where Harry found you?" Hermione asked, becoming very invested in the conversation. This was the first bit of information she had been able to get out of him since she had taken his case, and her adrenaline was pumping.

Malfoy's lips pursed together in agitation at being reminded of Harry's involvement with his case before he nodded his head curtly. "That same one."

Hermione shared a glance with Blaise and she knew instantly what he was thinking.

* * *

The sun reflected off the lapping waves of the coast as Hermione and Blaise searched the rocky coast of the Welsh countryside. They had waited outside Kingsley's office until he had arrived around five in the morning. They explained to him their situation, and that they may have found a lead to Narcissa Malfoy.

Ecstatic with this news, Kingsley had granted them a warrant to enter the murder scene of Lucius Malfoy, and even set up an apparition point for them to use.

They had been searching for the cabin for the better part of an hour before Blaise finally called from off the beaten path. Hermione hurried into the woods after him, her wand gripped tight in her fingers. Her heart had not stopped pounding since they had left Malfoy back at Azkaban. She was one step closer to getting a grasp on this whole case.

When Hermione caught up with Blaise, she stalled a little at the sight of the building before her.

 _Cabin_ was a very luxurious term for the shack that they now found themselves in front of. It was hardly big enough for four adults to lay down in, with a ceiling so stooped that Blaise had to crouch down in order to get through the doorway. It was a wonder how the two lanky Malfoy men were able to stay inside for the amount of time they did.

Hermione and Blaise lit their wands, glancing around at the debris on the floor. A small table had its' legs kicked out from under it, and a bookshelf off to the corner was completely demolished.

"Looks like there was a fight in here," Blaise muttered, moving some glass aside with the toe of his boot.

"Lucius Malfoy was found dead in here," Hermione whispered, glancing at the small clearing where the man must have been lying when they found him. "I'm sure he wouldn't have gone down without a fight."

"What attacked him?" Blaise asked, lifting his wand up to produce enough light for them to see while Hermione began to poke around for any sign of the coin.

"I…" she paused in her search, a scowl coming to her lips in concentration. "I'm not sure… I haven't had the chance to ask Malfoy yet. He was covered in blood too when they found him."

Blaise didn't say anything.

A half hour passed of Hermione sifting through debris and glass and scattered papers and clothes before she coming up empty handed.

"Let me look for a bit," Blaise said, crouching down by an upturned desk drawer and riffling through the contents.

"Be my guest," Hermione groaned, picking up an overturned chair and sitting down on it. "It's not here."

"Quite your whining," Blaise said good-naturedly. It was the closest thing to a joke she had ever heard him say, and his uplifted spirits made it hard for her to be bitter.

"I'm not whining," she said back to him. "I'm just tired."

Blaise shrugged before he moved aside a heap of clothes and grabbed for a small pack that had been hidden underneath. It was made of dragon skin and looked expensive and out of place in the tiny shack. Hermione sat up excitedly when he held it up to her and sent her a wink.

"Never lose faith, Ms. Granger," he said, standing to his feet and opening the pack. He rummaged around inside, pulling out a broken quill, a smashed ink cartridge and a stained piece of parchment. After emptying the contents onto the floor, he reached his fingers back inside and pulled a small galleon out from the bottom of the bag.

He dropped the pack and held up the coin, squinting. "Is this it?" he asked.

Hermione jumped up, reaching for the coin excitedly. "Let me see," she commanded, her fingers stretching.

It looked like he was going to make her beg for it for a moment before he allowed her to snatch it from his fingers.

She rubbed her thumb along the face of the coin and Blaise held up his lit wand to see the surface.

The serial number shimmied and began rotating before coming to a standstill. Hermione examined the coin before a smile broke across her face.

"It's not a time or a date, Blaise. It's a location."


	15. Escaped

_**Author's Note:**_

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J.K. Rowling. All characters, items, places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

Harry and his team were alerted about the location on the coin not by Hermione, but by Kingsley and the rest of the department. Hermione was hoping she would be able to catch him before he left, and she pulled ahead of Blaise at a sprint for Kingsley's office.

She had just rounded the corner when something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She skidded to a stop and looked down the hall at the elevator. Harry's face stood out amongst the pristine Ministry members that stood around him.

She started for the elevator and his eyes caught hers.

"I'll find her, Hermione," he said, before the elevator's gate closed and they were swept backwards and then down out of sight.

Hermione pulled a stop and stared at the place where he had just been. She had wanted to say something to him. Apologize for dragging him with her when she should have brought Blaise, and ask him if Ginny was still mad at her. She wanted everything to be okay between them again, because she didn't know how much longer she could take being alone with just her thoughts.

Blaise came up beside her and stood next to her, glancing towards the vacant elevator shaft.

"What should we do now?" Hermione asked, hoping for some type of mundane work that would keep her distracted while Harry went off to chase whatever it was he was chasing.

"Now, you should sleep." Blaise said, clasping his hands behind his back. "We've been up all night Granger. You're going to be of no use to anybody if you wait around for Potter to return. He could bring back anything with him."

Hermione knew he was right, but the idea of going back to her apartment after such a night was not something she was looking forward to. Though she couldn't deny how tired she felt.

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked curiously as a new elevator appeared in front of them. They both got on and the gate doors closed in front of them before they were swept away in the similar fashion that Harry had been moments before.

"Maybe get some coffee. I have some paperwork to fill out still."

The air seemed lighter between them than when Blaise had first appeared at her door, and Hermione shifted on the balls of her feet. She knew she should apologize for being so prejudice at the café. She had been upset and not thinking clearly, and after so many years of being tormented by Malfoy and his gang, it was hard to think of Blaise as anything else but a slimy Slytherin.

"Blaise, I-"

"If you're thinking about apologizing, you don't have to."

Hermione blinked in surprise as the elevator came to a halt and opened up its gates to them. Blaise looked over at her and offered her the smallest of smiles. His chiseled face melted into that of a handsome school boy and Hermione wouldn't say that she had never thought him handsome before that moment.

"Once a cunning Slytherin, always a cunning Slytherin," he stepped out of the elevator before her, calling over his shoulder in that same good-natured tone. "Just like once an annoying Gryffindor, always an annoying Gryffindor."

Hermione felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips and her shoulders relaxed.

* * *

She couldn't remember the last time she had headed down the streets in front of her apartment building feeling so light. Everything seemed to be lifting up, even though many things were still broken. On the one hand, she still didn't know what her standing was with her friends, or if they would forgive her for getting caught up in this case. On the other hand, she had possibly made a new friend with someone she would have never thought possible to be friends with before, and her case with Malfoy finally had a new lead after being dry for so long.

Though her mind still spun with the new information, she felt at ease with everything around her. At least for the time being.

She had just pulled her key from her pocket and was about to unlock the main foyer's doors when a voice called out from behind her.

"Enjoy your company last night?"

Hermione froze at the sound of Ron's voice. She had not expected to see him and whirled around to look at him. His large figure was adorned in a very traditional knit sweater made by Mrs. Weasley and his blazing hair seemed redder than usual. Though his tone was agitated, his face seemed calm.

"Ron, what," her mind stuttered over what he had just asked her and a small feeling of panic rose inside her. "What are you talking about?"

Ron shrugged his broad shoulders, looking a bit defeated. "I saw some bloke skulking around here and head inside, and a bit later you both left together."

She could have imagined the jealous tone in his voice, but she decided to ignore it either way.

"It was…" she stalled, hesitant. Had she told Ron yet that not only was she working on Malfoy's case, but she was doing so with the help of another former death eater and Malfoy's old school mate Blaise Zabini? She was sure he would not take to it very kindly, but she could not lie to him, not after everything. He deserved to be a part of this as much as Harry did. "It was Blaise Zabini. He works with me on my file. Kingsley appointed him…"

Ron nodded his head slowly. Whether he believed her or not, or was outraged at all by this information, he did not show it. "Have you got any new leads?"

Hermione blinked at him and her heart fluttered. Was he trying to fix things between them? Did that mean that there was still something that could be fixed? She took a step towards him, trying not to become too excited should he suddenly change his mind and leave.

"Yes, we did actually. That's why we left so late. Malfoy has been trying to tell me something about his case, but I couldn't figure out what it was until Blaise found one of my old DA coins and asked me how it worked. It's hard to explain. But Malfoy still had a DA coin, and we think his mother was in possession of the other one. Blaise and I went to the cabin where he was captured and found it, and there was a location programmed into it. We assume it's Narcissa's current location, and that she updates it whenever she goes somewhere new so that Malfoy would always know where she was."

Ron's eyebrows furrowed together, and she waited with baited breath. "Why would mommy leave in the first place?"

Hermione's lips pursed together in concentration, but she didn't have an answer for him. "I'm not sure… I didn't ask that yet. But Malfoy is talking now, and with the capture of his mother, I might be able to get the whole story out of him. If I have the whole story, it will be easier for me to come up with a way for-"

"The court to believe him to be mental." Ron finished, nodding his head and putting his hands into his pockets. "Good work 'Mione."

She blinked at him and she could feel the pressure building behind her eyes. "Ron I'm… I'm sorry-"

He shrugged and it cut her off, her voice faltering. "You don't like me like that. It's not the end of the world, is it?"

She couldn't stop herself. She flung her arms around his neck and yanked him to her. His chest vibrated with his deep chuckle and he hugged her back. "You're always so emotional 'Mione." He said teasingly.

She wanted to say something about how he shouldn't exactly be the one to talk, but she decided to keep her mouth shut for once.

* * *

She didn't know what she had expected with the capture of Narcissa Malfoy… but it hadn't been this.

After being awoken from her sleep a few hours later by an owl tapping vigorously on her window with an urgent message from Kingsley, she had quickly changed and headed out to the office. She assumed that Blaise would have received the same message and would be on his way as well, and she was on pins and needles to talk to Harry again.

Upon arriving at the Ministry, she saw Harry almost immediately. If he had looked tired after finding Malfoy and Lucius, he looked even more so after finding Narcissa.

He spotted her from across the foyer and started towards her and Hermione stilled instantly.

"What's happened?" Hermione asked seriously, feeling her stomach doing twists.

"Narcissa Malfoy," Harry started, his tone stiff and his eyes alert. "She's dead. Kingsley wants to see you in his office."

The news momentarily shocked her, and she almost let Harry walk away without another word.

"Harry," she called out, but he was already turning to look back at her.

"Ginny's fine, okay? Just focus on this." He nodded his head to her and started off to file paperwork on his recent outing.

Hermione watched him go before she turned on her heels and headed for the elevator.

When she reached Kingsley's door, Blaise was already standing there waiting for her. He looked grim and judging by the set way that his shoulders sat she knew that he had already heard the news. He grabbed a hold of her shoulder just as she was about to pass him.

"Malfoy is not going to take this well," he said instantly, his eyes searching her face for something she could not place. "He can NOT find out about this. You have to tell Kingsley that this can't get out."

His urgency made her feel uneasy, and she looked at him with a furrowed brow. "How would Malfoy hear about it anyway? He's in Azkaban."

"I don't know Granger, but he can't find out his mother is dead. He just can't. He won't survive that." His concern seemed genuine and Hermione couldn't think of anything else to do except nod.

"Okay."

* * *

News of Narcissa's death did not stay quiet. The next day it was splattered across the front page of the Daily Prophet, supposedly leaked from an inside source at the Ministry. And Malfoy did not stay oblivious to it for long.

Hermione was summoned to Kingsley's office that night around 11, with no idea as to what he could want from her. She arrived at his door with Blaise, who was still fuming about the fact that the paper had run the story. She thought he would be angry at her, as though it were her fault, but he wasn't. He hardly even looked at her at all.

Kingsley stood when the two entered the room and Hermione spotted the group of Aurors and Hit Wizards that stood off to the side. Gage Steinfield was one of them. He nodded towards her upon seeing her, but his normal cheery attitude seemed to be missing.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Kingsley said seriously, looking between the two of them. Hermione felt the tension thick in the air and she stiffened. "There has been a situation over in Azkaban that we needed you to be aware of."

"What situation?" Blaise asked, still a little bitter.

"Malfoy's handler, Jackson, was found murdered today during his perimeter patrol." Kingsley looked pointedly at Hermione, who felt as though she had just had a bucket of ice water thrown at her. "Malfoy is… missing."

The words didn't fully sink in until Blaise was already stepping forward.

"What do you mean he's missing?"

"It's Azkaban… Where could he have gone?" Hermione found her voice, feeling incredibly perplexed.

"We don't know that yet. We have several teams combing the building and the grounds looking for him. We think he was able to somehow trick Jackson into letting him out of his cell. It's the only possible explanation." Kingsley explained all this while passing a note of instructions and precautions to the group standing in the corner.

Hermione turned her gaze to Steinfield. "Are you going there now?"

He nodded his head at her professionally. "Yes Ms. Granger, they need all the help they can get. The other inmates are going crazy with Malfoy's escape; you know? They think, if he can do it, why not them."

"Which is why he needs to be found as quickly as possible," Kingsley interrupted the younger man.

"Let me go too," Hermione spoke up, turning her gaze towards her boss. She didn't know why she felt the need to suddenly be a part of all the action again, which was something she was hoping to avoid by being a lawyer in the Ministry, but she felt drawn towards it all of a sudden. She also couldn't seem to let Steinfield go on his own. He was still fresh from training.

"Hermione, that is the last thing I'm prepared to do," Kingsley said.

"I'll go too."

Hermione glanced over at Blaise and she mentally thanked him for getting involved, even if he wasn't particularly doing it to help her.

There was a long pause as Kingsley assessed the situation and the rest of them stayed completely still, awaiting orders. Finally, Kingsley sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"You have five hours."


	16. The Chase

Azkaban was in chaos. Hermione didn't know what she had expected to walk into, but it definitely wasn't this. The sirens and alarms were still blasting full volume, and search lights flew from the tips of Auror's wands. It was a race against the clock, and Hermione could feel her blood pumping with the familiar adrenaline that she hadn't felt in years.

"Granger," Blaise called out to get her attention, dashing towards the entrance.

"Steinfield, you're with me," Hermione said, turning towards the other boy. He nodded seriously, his wand brandished and held high.

Hermione turned and quickly followed after Blaise with Steinfield right behind her. They had just reached the gate in time to hear the end of Blaise's argument with the guard at the door.

"You have to let us in. We're here on official business from the Minister of Magic," Blaise was livid. He gripped his wand so tight that his knuckles tuened white.

"A guard was murdered here. Unless you've got the proper paperwork, you ain't getting in! We're extremely busy here, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Please, sir, I'm Malfoy's lawyer and-"

"I know who you are," the guard said bitterly. A crowd of Aurors sped past in the background and Hermione couldn't believe her luck when she recognized one of the faces in the group.

"Hermione," Harry called, coming to a standstill. He waved his team ahead before he started towards her. "What are you doing here?"

"Kingsley sent us," she said, indicating towards Blaise and Steinfield. "We only have a few hours to find him Harry,"

"Let them in, let them in," Harry commanded the guard, who quickly did as he was told. He scurried away into the dark and lifted the spell off of the gates, which opened easily. "We've checked all the cells, and the interrogation rooms. He can't have gone far."

The four of them took off down the hall, hurrying to catch up with the rest of the team. Hermione had never been this far into Azkaban before, and she nearly stopped dead when a Dementor swept past her in a rush off down a side corridor.

"They've sent Dementors after him?" she asked, watching as it disappeared into the dark.

"He's caused quite an uproar with the other inmates," Harry repeated Steinfield's earlier comment. "They're still not sure how he managed to get out of his cell."

"Kingsley said he tricked his guard into letting him out," Blaise said, glancing swiftly into each room they passed. There were aurors and guards everywhere they looked.

"That doesn't seem right," Harry muttered as they slowed and rounded a corner to the back corridors of Azkaban, "Jackson is smarter than that."

"Malfoy knows wandless magic," Hermione whispered. In the back corridors of Azkaban, the sounds of the alarms and the rushing feet of the others seemed distant and muffled. An eerie silence engulfed them, and Hermione pulled her wand out, just in case. "Maybe he-"

"Stupefy!"

A flash of red light dashed through the corridor, startling all three of them. Hermione rounded on Steinfield, who still had his wand raised from firing his recent spell. "There!"

She had just enough time to reel around to see a form dark from the shadows and disappear around the corner. The sounds of bare feet slapping the concrete only further convinced her that it was indeed an inmate on the run.

"Draco! Stop!" Blaise took off at a sprint after the shadowy figure.

"Blaise!" Hermione ran after him with Harry and Steinfield right behind her.

It was a mad dash through the darkness. They took corners at full speeds, casting various spells in an attempt to slow him down, but he was far too quick. He darted around corners and flung open doors behind him in an effort to stop the curses. His blonde hair was windblown and acted as their beacon.

Suddenly the came upon a large staircase spiraling downwards into the depths of Azkaban. The temperature dropped sharply and Hermione slowed her pace, feeling a stitch beginning to form in her side.

With astonishment, she watched as Blaise leapt over the hand railing in an attempt to cut Malfoy off. But the blonde had already anticipated his move, and ducked low at the waist, slamming Blaise hard in the midsection. He smacked hard into the wall, his head coming back and whacking against the concrete. He slumped down and Malfoy took off without a backwards glance.

"Blaise!" Hermione hurried down the steps towards his slumped figure.

"Go, I got him," Harry appeared by her shoulder, putting a firm hand on Blaise's shoulder.

Hermione wanted to stay and help, but the sound of a large door slamming open at the bottom of the stairs drew her back to reality.

"Don't let him get outside!" Harry warned as she took off in hot pursuit.

How did he have all of this energy inside of him to keep running?

She stumbled down the last bit of step, feeling the stitch in her side growing more intense, and hurried out through the open door. Her feet hit grass and panic struck her. She could not lose him. Not now.

"Malfoy!" She called out into the darkness, lighting her wand. She hurried forward, listening hard for any sign of him. The distant sounds of the waves crashing against the bank, and the wind rustling through the leaves were the only noises she could hear.

"Malfoy! Please, answer me!" she started through the tall grass, lifting her wand high over her head in an attempt to see where she was going.

The grass rustled to her right and she spotted a shape darting forward ahead of her.

"Malfoy, wait! I'm sorry about Narcissa!"

The world seemed to grow silent and Hermione held her breath, pushing through the grass slower this time. She tried to spot him, catch a glimpse of his glowing hair, but all she was met with were menacing shadows.

"You weren't supposed to find out this way Malfoy," Hermione continued, hoping he could hear her. Her heart pounded in her chest and she wondered if Blaise was okay and how safe she really was out here alone with him. "We were going to tell you in person… You killed Jackson Malfoy, and you've injured Blaise."

It happened so suddenly. A yell of anger ripped through the night and Hermione felt a heavy force ram hard into her back, knocking her off of her feet. Her wand skirted out of her fingertips, landing in the grass and casting shadows everywhere. She turned quickly, just in time to catch his wrist as it came flying at the back of her head.

"Malfoy, stop!"

It was like she had spoken a magic word. The world fell silent again, save for their heavy paintings. Malfoy seemed to grow very still and Hermione took advantage of this, using this time to glance over his face. The shadows from her wand light danced across his features, but it did not hide the startled panic from his eyes, or the dirt and sweat smeared across his cheeks and forehead. His lips were quivering, like he couldn't decide whether to attack or cry. Numerous leaves and twigs stuck out from his hair and the elbows and knees of his uniform were stained a dark color.

"Just… calm down," she whispered, loosening her grip on his incredibly slender wrist. He stared back at her, like an animal caught in a trap. He looked terrified and for once, she could finally see it. Gone was the image of the school boy that she had always resented, or the quivering coward that she had seen during the war. This new man was empty and terrified and completely taken apart from the inside out.

She didn't know what else to feel except pity for him. Looking at him as he was now, it was impossible for her to feel hatred, or any other previous emotion.

"I…" she hesitated, waiting to see if he would say anything. He merely sat there on his knees with his quivering lips, looking at her. "I'm sorry about your mother. We can do this together Malfoy," she stopped short.

Long lines of moisture dripped down his cheeks, leaving clean tracks amongst the dirt on his face. His shoulders gave a massive shudder and he collapsed, like he had been shot from behind with a spell. His forehead laid on the tops of her knees and she could feel the wetness of his tears and snot as it fell from his face.

Startled, she did the only thing she could think to do. She let go of his wrist and rested her hands firmly on his skinny back, feeling the rocks of the sobs as they came and listening to the whimpering sounds that escaped his lips. He was muttering under his breath, but Hermione couldn't hear a word of what he was saying, and before long she could hear the rushed steps of other people running towards them.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled from somewhere in the distance.

Malfoy panicked, attempting to leap to his feet and run off. Hermione latched onto his neck and held him still on his knees. His eyes caught hers and he froze, terrified.

"It'll be alright," just as she uttered those words, two pairs of guard's hands were reaching out and grabbing him by his lanky arms, hauling him to his feet and out of Hermione's grasp. Her hands grew cold and she almost felt his panic inside herself as he began to kick and fight. "Malfoy, please, it'll be okay," she stumbled to her feet and Harry took a hold of her arm to keep her steady.

She watched as the guards carried him away. Despite her efforts to calm him down, he still kicked and screamed in an attempt to break free.

"Hermione, are you okay?"

She couldn't look away from his as he disappeared back inside the building. No, she was not okay. She didn't know if she'd ever think the same way again.

"I…" was all she could think to get out. Harry reached for her wand and picked it up, handing it over to her. "Harry… he's-"

"I know," he cut in, placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her back towards the building.

"What will they do with him?" she found herself asking, gripping her wand tight in her hand.

"My guess is they'll send him back to isolation."

Hermione winced at this. That meant that their case would be halted again, and the wizengamot would be even more inclined to have him stay there forever. She had to work fast if she wanted to sort this out.

"How is Blaise?" she glanced around for the other man, her mind already racing.

"He's waiting for you," Harry said as they entered Azkaban and began to make their winding way back to the front gates. "I think he's ready to settle this case."

Hermione nodded seriously, rounding the corner and catching eyes with the tall man, who stood by the entrance with a bandage wrapped around his head.

"So am I."


	17. Court In Session

_**Author's Note:**_

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J.K. Rowling. All characters, items, places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

A knock on the door sounded and Hermione set her glass of wine down. She pulled her knit blanket tighter around herself before standing to her feet and heading towards the door. She already knew who stood there waiting before she opened it, and she stepped aside to let Blaise in without any hesitation.

He still had a bandage wrapped around his head, but he seemed far more alert and comprehensive than when she had found him after Malfoy's capture. She could still remember the crazed, panicked look in the boy's eyes and her insides turned at the very thought of him being alone in isolation.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, closing the door and heading for the kitchen to pour him a glass of wine.

"A bit of a headache, but I feel alright." Blaise took off his coat and placed it on the back of the chair at the counter in the kitchen. "How about you?"

"I've been better, but I've been worse." She said as she put the wine back on the shelf and turned towards him, handing him the glass that he took after a moment's hesitation. "Don't worry it's not 2 galleon wine this time. I got it special for tonight."

Blaise took a whiff and then a sip before nodding his head in approval.

"What's so special about tonight?"

"When Malfoy gets out of isolation, I'd like to present the final case to the Wizengamot."

He raised his eyebrow at her and seemed to think about this for a while before he nodded his head in agreement. "You think we're ready?"

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, as though to protect herself from the memory. "You didn't see him Blaise, not clearly anyway… He doesn't belong there."

He stared at her, swirling the liquid around in the glass before a smirk came to his lips. He chuckled seemingly to himself, ducking his head to stare at the wine glass in his hand.

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shook his head. "I just think it's sweet," he said, looking back up at her. "That you actually care about what happens to him."

She almost declined and argued that she didn't care about Malfoy, just that they won the case, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. In some way, she supposed she did care what happened to Malfoy. He was still pompous and rude, he was still Malfoy, but something about him was different. She saw it in his eyes when she had found him in the dirt. The truth of the matter was that Malfoy was alone in this world, with very few people who cared about him or what happened to him. Perhaps it was her Gryffindor spirit that compelled her to feel sympathy towards him.

"Yes, well," she couldn't come up with anything clever to say and instead moved around the counter back towards the couch.

She sat down and pulled Malfoy's case file towards her, dipping her quill into her inkwell and turning a sheet over to a blank side. Blaise came to join her, sitting himself down beside her and placing his wine glass on the table.

* * *

Hermione stared at him. Really stared at him. He was so still and rigid across the table from her, looking at the ground between his feet as though he could melt a hole through the concrete and disappear back into hiding.

She waited in silence, determined not to upset him and cause a scene that could end their meeting short. After two weeks of isolation, this was her last chance to talk to him before the final case presentation and she was ready to hear what he had to say, no matter what it was.

Together they sat, quiet, completely alone in the interrogation room. He looked just as he had when he had first been brought in. The sleeve on his left side was completely missing and bare. His shoulder poked out, slender and skinny like a bone. His cheekbones were high and his eyes were surrounded by a mass of purple and gray. His platinum hair that sparkled in the light was messy and untamed.

He took a heavy sigh and his whole body seemed to work to keep himself upright and finally he looked up at her. His eyes were a startling bright gray.

"He made her leave," he said softly, his hands clutched together in his lap.

Hermione waited, careful not to move.

"He said… she had no business being with us. That she was a liability. That she wouldn't be able to keep up." His eyes moved far away from her and Hermione let his mind wander. She could see it happening behind his pale features, deep inside his head.

"We fought about it, him and I," he finally came back to reality and pressed on. "We must have made a lot of noise… The wizard who came to investigate…" He stalled and then started again. "There wasn't anything I could do. He had taken my wand during the argument, and when the wizard came in… There was no way to protect him."

He fell silent again, this time for so long that Hermione was sure he wasn't going to continue. She sat upright in her chair and the noise made him lock eyes with her.

"We're going to win this case Malfoy," she said confidently.

He stared at her from across the table, his mind working out her words. He licked his chapped lips and repositioned himself in his chair.

"What will happen to me then?"

"You'll be transported to an Auror's home, where you'll be looked after for the next few months. You'll attend therapy meetings, group counseling and you'll do volunteer work. After 6 to 12 months of that, you'll have another meeting with the Wizengamot to discuss your behavior and your progress."

"And if I do alright?"

"They'll let you go."

He nodded slowly, rubbing his palms together. "And you'll be present at the other meeting?"

"No, they'll assign you a new lawyer. My job is just to convince them of your insanity."

He stared at her and his expression grew serious and hard. "Do you think I'm insane, Granger?"

She was startled by his question and didn't quite know how to respond. Did she think he was insane? Perhaps on some level. He had witnessed the death of both of his parents, he had been on the run for many years, and he had attacked multiple people while he stayed at Azkaban. He wasn't sane, for one thing, but was he insane?

"I think you're innocent," she finally said.

He looked at her across the table and she at him and for a long time they stayed like that, staring each other down. Finally, Malfoy nodded his head, as though accepting that answer.

When it seemed like there was nothing else to be said, Hermione stood to her feet.

"Your meeting is tomorrow at noon. Blaise will be there too," she informed him, because she knew somehow that it would mean something to him to know that Blaise would be there. Perhaps one of the only people left in the world who still gave a damn about him.

"Thank you, Granger." And he meant it.

And she felt it.

* * *

"Ms. Granger! Mr. Zabini! Do you really believe that Malfoy should walk free? After everything he did during the Wizarding War? After he fled from authorities for so long?"

"Ms. Granger! Is Mr. Malfoy really insane? Do you have proof?"

"Excuse me! If Malfoy walks free, what does that mean about the other Death Eaters in captivity? Is there a chance that they will be freed as well? Are we really safe?"

"Mr. Zabini, are your opinions during this case biased because of your long lasting relationship with Mr. Malfoy?"

"Ms. Granger! Ms. Granger! How does it feel to once work alongside Harry Potter to fight against the Death Eaters and now to work for the Ministry to let those same Death Eaters walk free?"

Hermione ignored them as best she could, though her blood was boiling at their questions. Blaise was doing a much better job at keeping his expression blank as they forced their way through the stream of reporters to the court room. He kept a firm hand on her back to keep her moving forward, as though he knew her temper was slowly getting the best of her.

"There is he! There's Mr. Malfoy!" Someone called out as soon as Hermione and Blaise reached the court room doors.

Hermione turned suddenly to look over her shoulder. Malfoy was heading towards the doors from the Azkaban apparition point, accompanied by four large guards. He wore his black suit and his hair was combed as well as it could be. She hadn't noticed how long it had actually grown since the start of their case.

The reporters tried to flock him, yelling questions about his family and who he had murdered and how he should rot in Azkaban for the rest of his life. The guards kept them at bay but Malfoy seemed completely unfazed by the attention. His eyes were set dead ahead and he looked determined.

"Come on," Blaise said, forcing Hermione through the door.

By the time Hermione, Blaise, Malfoy and his guards were inside the court room, the doors had closed on the reporters and the room fell silent. The guards led Malfoy to the lone chair in the middle of the room and he sat himself down. He avoided looking at both Hermione and Blaise, who took their appropriate spots on the right side of him, facing where Aldermaston and Kingsley would be seated.

It was only 20 minutes later that the court room was full and Aldermaston had called for their attention.

"This court is now in session. The Wizengamot will decide the fate and future of Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy with the plea for release upon insanity and evidence gathered by his lawyers, Ms. Hermione Granger and Mr. Blaise Zabini, will be reviewed."Aldermaston glanced up from his paper and looked Hermione straight in the eyes. "Please proceed."

Hermione glanced at Blaise, who handed her the file with a confident nod. The air was tense and Hermione felt the pressure of the room and the situation come to settle on her shoulders. She took the file and turned towards Aldermaston and the Wizengamot.

"After extensive research and interviews with Mr. Malfoy, it is clear to us that Malfoy's circumstances are unique. From being forced to follow Voldemort's wishes to assassinate Albus Dumbledore, and failing such task, to being on the run for more than two years, Malfoy's conscious mind was under strenuous amounts of pressure."

"And who's to say he was 'forced' to do anything?" asked a member of the Wizengamot.

"Malfoy's father had been a follower of Voldemort far before Malfoy had even been born. It was in his family's honor that he accepted the dark mark."

"Says who? Him?" The Wizengamot member jerked his chin towards Malfoy with a sneer of disgust.

"Says the psychiatrists who have interviewed hundreds of children of active Death Eaters after the war," Blaise spoke up, standing to his feet.

"Oh, such as yourself?" Another Wizengamot member questioned.

Hermione saw the turn that this was taking and her stomach dropped a little. She needed to push forward before people got distracted and began to make up conspiracy theories that would lead them to keep Malfoy in Azkaban for the rest of his life.

"Malfoy knew what he was doing, this is true," she stepped in, her fingers gripping the sides of her paper tightly with determination. "He was aware of the choices he was making but not of the consequences that would soon follow. Psychological trauma influenced his decisions. Were it not for those outside forces, Malfoy would never have tried to assassinate Dumbledore, nor would he have been forced to run from authorities."

She turned her attention back to Aldermaston. "With rehabilitation and therapy, Malfoy would not be a threat to society. He is suffering from deep, psychological trauma and is handling emotional abuse from childhood expectancies. That, coupled with the experience of being on the run, lead to the man who was captured and who tried to escape from Azkaban. Azkaban is not the place for the mentally ill. The mentally ill belong with psychiatric care and those qualified to give Malfoy the treatment he deserves."

Silence echoed her words and she couldn't tell if the Wizengamot looked convinced or furious. She turned and walked back towards the table where Blaise sat, placing the file down and glancing up at him. His lips were pursed, which didn't seem like a good sign, but he nodded his head in encouragement anyway.

"When Malfoy received the dark mark he was only sixteen years old, still a minor and still in full custody and control of his parents, more importantly, his father Lucius Malfoy who had been an active member of Voldemort for years. Narcissa Malfoy risked her life to safe her son during the Wizarding War at Hogwarts. Were it not for Malfoy's father, he would have never joined the ranks in the first place, this I am certain."

Silence again echoed her words and Hermione could feel her own heart beating in her throat. "With the proper treatment, he can saved." She used this word sparingly, in the hopes that the idea of saving those who are misfortune would be enough to convince those last few.

Aldermaston was writing something down on his parchments and the Wizengamot began to mutter to themselves.

Hermione turned her gaze onto Malfoy, who sat back straight and seemingly oblivious to everyone else in the room.

"A decision must be reached," Aldermaston finally sat, without looking up from his parchment.

Kingsley stood to his feet beside Aldermaston. "All those in favor of the defendant walking free?"

It started slow, with a mumble and the squeak of a chair, before a hand rose in the back on the right side of the room. Hermione stilled when nobody else moved and felt dread prickling up the back of her neck. Until another hand rose on the left side of the room. And two more. And five more. Until more than half the room had raised their hands in agreement.

Hermione felt the tug on her cheeks and she worked hard to keep her excitement back.

After a few more moments, when no one else moved, Aldermaston raised his eyes from his parchment and scanned the entirety of the Wizengamot. He made a flourish with his quill and set it down before clearing his throat.

"I hereby sentence the defendant to 15 months therapy and community service, after which he will be presented back in front of the Wizengamot to evaluate his progress. Ms. Granger will be in charge of overseeing Malfoy for the night. Tomorrow morning an auror will arrive to become Malfoy's new care taker. This meeting is dismissed."

It ended as quickly as it had started. The case vanished before her eyes. The Wizengamot stood to its feet and began to disappear. Kingsley sent her an approving nod from the front of the room before he followed Aldermaston out to the back chambers. And just as quickly as Hermione had become Malfoy's lawyer, suddenly she was not anymore.

Blaise was the first to approach her, with a broad smile flashed across his face.

"We did it," he said and Hermione remembered the last time she had exclaimed this to Malfoy. But this time, it was a 'we did it' moment.

"We did it," she agreed happily.

A guard appeared by Blaise's shoulder with Malfoy standing next to him. Though he did not crack a grin, his tired face seemed relieved and ready for a long night's rest. Blaise pat him on the shoulder and Malfoy seemed to give a little under the weight of his hand.

"Sleep well tonight my friend," Blaise said, squeezing his shoulder.


	18. Confessions of a Mad Man

_**Author's Note:**_

 **Hey everyone! Thanks for reading my fanfiction! I hope you all enjoyed. I may be updating and revising this story later on but as for now I am excited to present you with the final chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: all characters belong to the author of the Harry Potter series; J.K. Rowling. All characters, items, places and/or organizations mentioned are of her own creation.**

* * *

Hermione turned the key and opened the door to her apartment. The guard that had come with them had her fill out a form while Malfoy entered the room, glancing around. She handed the quill and parchment back to the guard who tipped his hat and receded back down the hallway they had just come from.

With a tired sigh, Hermione walked into her apartment and closed the door behind her. Her eyes landed on Malfoy instantly. His blond hair and lanky body seemed out of place in her apartment.

She shifted on the balls of her feet, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She hadn't thought that when Malfoy would be released he would be sent to stay with her over night. She didn't know how she was supposed to act with him now. Sure, she had been his lawyer and had won his case, indirectly saving his ass, but what did that make them? Surely not friends?

"Would you like some wine?" she instantly asked the first question that came to mind, heading for the kitchen. She placed her bag on the counter top and opened the fridge, pulling the chilled wine out. She'd always liked it a little cold.

"Malfoy?" she asked, when he didn't answer, and turned to look at him.

He had been pulled to the shelf of valuables same as Blaise had been. He glanced over each object carefully, his eyes lingering on an ordinary looking handbag that Hermione knew could hold several pairs of clothes, a tent, potions and multiple books. He reached his fingers up and picked up the little gold galleon, rolling it gently between his fingers.

Hermione watched him carefully, uncertain whether he would break down again at the reminder that Narcissa had died.

She turned away from his suddenly, as though she had been intruding, before pouring him a glass. She placed the bottle away and walked over to stand beside him.

"Malfoy?" she asked again, quieter.

He blinked at the coin and finally glanced to look at her.

"Huh?" he asked, before his pale eyes darted down to the glass of red liquid in her hands. He placed the galleon down and took it from her, swirling the liquid gently. "Thanks," he muttered, turning away from her.

Hermione walked over to the couch and sat, pulling off her boots and glancing out of the corner of her eye at him. She watched him wander about the room, stopping at the most random objects such as the lamp in the corner or the digital clock on the stand next to the couch. His eyebrows pulled together and he studied the objects closely, as though trying to work them out.

"What's this?" he asked a few minutes later, flicking the television screen lightly with his finger.

"It's um, it's a television."

"A what?"

"It lets you watch shows."

He turned to look at her. "Watch what?"

Hermione rubbed a hand over her face and sighed, feeling the exhaustion slowly beginning to set in. "I'll explain in the morning. I'll even show you how it works."

Malfoy seemed ready to argue before giving up at the last minute and heading for the kitchen, glancing at the magnets that hung on the fridge. Hermione took a sip of her wine and leant her cheek against her arm.

"How are you feeling?" she finally asked, afraid that if they stayed quiet for too long she would fall asleep.

"Fantastic," Malfoy said, and she couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

Hermione frowned and raised her head, taking another sip of her wine.

"How did you escape?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her. Without the lights of the interrogation room and the harsh uniform, she felt more at ease with asking him questions. And she had so many.

"Escape what?" Malfoy asked, pulling a magnet from the fridge. It was a small book with the words 'knowledge is power' written on the front.

"The other wizard who came to the cabin? The one who attacked Lucius?"

Malfoy didn't answer, setting the glass of wine down and turning the magnet over in his slender fingers.

"You didn't tell Harry or anyone about the other wizard. I'm sure if they had known… they…" Hermione frowned, her eyebrows pulling together. Malfoy _hadn't_ mentioned another wizard to anyone. There had been no mention of another wizard in the reports. No mention of it anywhere.

She sat upright, putting her glass of wine down on the table in front of her. She watched his back closely, though he did not turn to look at her or even acknowledge that she had spoken.

The atmosphere of the room shifted and Hermione stood to her feet, staring at her bag sitting on the kitchen counter. She went to take a step before Malfoy's words ground her to a halt.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He finally turned to look at her, pocketing the book magnet into his suit. He stepped across the kitchen in two long strides and picked up her bag, reaching inside and pulling out her wand. Hermione felt her stomach drop to her feet.

"There wasn't another wizard…" Hermione whispered, feeling more and more foolish as the moments ticked by.

Malfoy smirked with amusement, twirling her wand between his fingers.

"They always said you were the brightest witch of our year, you know," he said, his voice conversational and smooth. "As soon as I saw you I knew, I said to myself, 'Draco,'" He pointed her wand at her and she froze, suddenly realizing that danger she was in. "'Draco, if you're going to pull this off, you're going to have to be real clever to get one passed ol' Granger.'"

He stayed behind the counter, a safety barrier between them. Hermione glanced at the door but she knew before he even spoke that she wouldn't make it there in time.

"Don't even try it Granger."

Hermione felt her breath become ragged and she tried to appear calm, her brain working a mile a minute. "Your father… That means that you-"

"I had to. The old man was a fool. I figured this was my second chance. This was my redemption. I failed killing that old coot Dumbledore and look where it landed me. In a shack with a delusional, paranoid old man who jumped at every noise and made us eat waste."

"But… Narcissa-"

Malfoy's lip sneered. "That one hurt. But there was no other way. He had us living in the sewers in Ireland. Down under ground. I couldn't stand it anymore. If he thought that they were catching up, if he thought that they had out witted my mother, I knew he'd up and move us as soon as possible. She was a sacrifice I had to make." His eyes glistened with a rage Hermione couldn't place. "Just think of it as a strategic business move."

She felt her blood run cold and she knew her time was running out. He was becoming more confident and more furious with each passing moment.

"Why didn't you just run when you killed Lucius?"

Malfoy snorted and rolled his eyes, as though the answer was obvious.

"I needed to be free. I needed to someone to clear my name. I couldn't stand being on the run any longer. I knew Dumbledore pitied me. I resented him for it but I knew it all the same. If I had learned anything while at Hogwarts it was that Dumbledore took it upon himself to help those he pitied. It was just my luck that in those last years at school, he happened to pity me."

"You used me," Hermione said, feeling extremely foolish and played. She couldn't believe that at some point she had actually begun to feel sorry for Malfoy. That she had actually believed him innocent enough to walk free.

Malfoy smiled. An actual smile. A creepy, overjoyed smile, as though she had finally said the words he was hoping she would say.

He walked out from behind his safety barrier, holding his arms out as though he expected her to come over and hug him.

"Now, don't think of it that way Granger. It was a business move. We're partners."

Hermione began to feel panicked again at these words and her eyes scanned the room for anything to use against him.

She wished Blaise had come back to the apartment with them. She wished Ron would have seen her from his shop and had come over to see that she was alright. She wished Harry would show up. She wished someone would be there for her.

But she was completely alone and he was advancing towards her, her wand held in front of him.

"You did so well Granger," he cooed, as though he were congratulating her on passing her O.W.L's. "You did everything I wanted you to. You took me under your wing, you started to care about me," at this point a laugh escaped Malfoy's lips. "You really did care about me, didn't you Granger?"

She felt the hot string in her eyes, both from fear and from betrayal. She hadn't known how much she had started to care for him until he was throwing it back in her face. She hadn't realized how genuinely happy she had been that he had been freed. She had hoped to see a new side to him. A side that could only be shown through therapy and treatment. Perhaps a whole new Malfoy.

"Aww Granger, don't cry."

His mocking tone only angered her more and a lone tear slipped down her cheek in frustration.

"I wish I cared for you too," he reached a finger up, as though to touch her cheek, before he let it fall and took a step away from her. "Unfortunately, I really don't."

"You won't get away with this Malfoy," she barked out, trying to be intimidating even though she was powerless.

"Oh, I already have Granger."

She lunged for the door but his hand flew up quicker than she could run.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A green light filled the room followed by the panicked sounds of a scream, and then silence.


End file.
